


Integration

by MrsJohnReese



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 55,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsJohnReese/pseuds/MrsJohnReese
Summary: Piper Swan was never supposed to return to New York, and indeed she never wanted to after all hope she had of finding a home there was lost for good. But a mysterious message from a dead man will bring her back to the town she once loved quicker than she ever believed possible, just as it brings her face to face with something that she never could have imagined. A second chance.
Relationships: Harold Finch/Grace Hendricks, John Reese/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1





	1. Day Zero

(New York, September 2011)

A cool breeze rustled against stalks of grass as the woman stood beside the tombstone with umbrella in hand, her gaze fixated on the name etched upon the marble, despite the fact that she had stopped seeing that name what felt like ages ago. A damp rain was falling, coating the ground in a thin veil of mist, and locking a chill in the air that had prevented the small cemetery from becoming over-populated, which was just as the woman preferred. Too many people, and she risked discovery, and if she knew anything at all, it was that attracting unwanted notice, even from unwitting strangers, could spell the difference between life and death.

She had been on the run for what felt like forever, flitting from city to city every few months, and doing what she could to avoid leaving a trail for anyone to follow in the process. Although her flight had been made necessary through no direct fault of her own, she had done her best to ensure that she had left no trace of her former life behind.

Everything she knew about keeping a low profile was a direct result of the actions of the man lying beneath grave she now stood vigil over, the tears she had tried to shed for years still refusing to come. It was as though some small part of her was set against acknowledging the reality of her situation, no matter how many times it was dredged up and thrown in her face.

Denial had always been something she was better at than accepting the facts…

Regardless of her own personal failings, however, the woman was forced to acknowledge the faintest sense of apprehension at being called back to this city now, when she had thought never to return—particularly as the summons, such as they were, were hardly in a format she had expected. She had been prepared to cast aside yet another burner phone before leaving St. Louis when the text arrived, bearing nothing but a simple number and minimal instructions as to what to do with it. In truth, she had still been half-tempted to ignore the message despite the small tug of curiosity that the thing inspired in the first place. But some sort of instinct that she could barely understand, even now, had refused to allow her to simply toss the burner phone away without at least starting to follow the instructions in the text. And as soon as she had heard the voice recording that the number had given her access to, her return to the city that had inadvertently caused her entire world to blow apart at the seams had become inevitable.

She could still hear the words on the recording even now, long after the message had been deleted, and the burner phone discarded as well. No matter how many times she allowed them to play over and over again in her mind, she still could not shake the dread that had coiled in her chest ever since she heard the message for the first time.

Come home, angel. I'm sorry, but this has to be on you, now.

She still didn't have a clue what any of it meant, of course, but something in the pleading tone of the voice in the recording had made it impossible for her to resist doing as instructed, anyway, and now, here she was in the very city she had fled just two years prior, standing before the grave of the man that had sent her away to begin with.

He claimed it had been for her own protection, and her brother's as well. That separating them was in their best interests, and that he would send for them again when it was safe. But he never had that chance, and although the woman would have given anything to have made the situation otherwise, she had not even been permitted to attend the funeral.

She had been forced to watch, from the sidelines, as the last shred of hope of reuniting her family was torn from her grasp, and it had been all she could do to keep herself from following that hope into the grave, as well.

Here she was, though—a survivor, no matter how reluctant, and in spite of the fact that a part of her still wanted to run again, before she could encounter anything that might dredge up more painful memories, she was also more than a little determined to see why she had been told to return, first, before disappearing for good.

Steeled by the thought, even if it was only for a moment, the woman found herself stepping forward so that she could stoop and place one hand against the rough exterior of the gravestone before her, her tongue darting out to wet her lips before she spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

"What the hell did you get me into, Dad?"

The only manner of reply she received in response to her inquiry was the sharp snap of a twig sounding from somewhere behind where she stood, the sound almost immediately causing every muscle she possessed to tense while the hand that had been resting upon the gravestone snapped to the holster of the weapon she had hidden beneath the hem of her jacket. Of course, in the back of her mind, she knew she was overreacting—knew that it might simply be an errant squirrel, just trying to find shelter from the rain. But some sort of latent instinct that she could not fully explain told her otherwise, despite the inherent paranoia she knew rested behind the thought, itself. Someone had seen her, after all. Someone who had moved so quietly up to that point, that she had not even registered their existence.

Someone whose voice seemed to possess the capability of freezing her blood in her veins, even as it caused her to whirl to face the source of that voice while her hand dropped part way from its position upon the gun concealed at her side…

"Hello, Piper. I thought I might find you here."

…


	2. Role Play

"I—you were—dead," Piper stammered, stumbling backwards as the man approached her, and reaching behind her to place a hand upon the gravestone once again in hopes that it would prevent her from falling to the ground as her legs wobbled beneath her frame, "This is—"

"Impossible?"

"That's one word for it."

"I can assure you, Piper, this is not a figment of your imagination."

"How can you tell me that?"

"Because, aside from the man you came here to visit, I know you better than anyone," The man replied, risking another step closer to the woman he had come here to meet, and noting that her gaze almost immediately darted around the cemetery, as though she suspected some sort of a trap. In truth, he could not blame her for such a reaction, particularly as that type of behavior and outlook on the world had been ingrained in her almost since birth. But regardless of her upbringing, and her apparent inability to trust her own eyes at the moment, the man knew that it was absolutely imperative that she believe him, now.

Her livelihood, as well as his own, depended on it.

"Piper, you need to trust me. Trust yourself," He urged, taking another step closer, and finding himself more than a little relieved when she did not pull away any further this time, "This is—very real."

"Did you—are you the one that sent the message?"

"Indirectly."

"And what does that mean?" Piper questioned, her gaze once again returning to the man that stood before her, as though if she persisted in staring at him, her suspicion that he was not, in fact, the man she had once adored as much as she had her own father would come true, "How did you 'indirectly' send the message?"

"I would rather give you that answer away from the public eye."

Almost as soon as he had spoken the words, Piper took note of the car that had just come into view just outside the cemetery fence, its progress slow enough to spark suspicion, and prompt her hand to drop back to the weapon concealed beneath her coat. Every instinct she possessed was all but screaming at her to leave this city, even if it meant abandoning the only family she had left. But as strong as that desire was, she could not seem to turn her back on the man that she still hardly dared to believe really stood before her, her fingers curling around the holster of her gun despite the fact that she did not make another move.

"Are they a threat?"

"The people in the vehicle behind us? I have no idea," The man stated, stepping away from Piper in favor of beginning to walk further down the path that ran along the side of the plot of gravestones they stood upon, a small inclination of the head indicating that she should follow without question, "But either way, we would be safer not taking any chances."

Unable to do anything other than follow after the man as he moved away from her father's grave, Piper hurried to catch up, her brow furrowing as she realized that her companion appeared to walk with a limp that he did not possess, before. Once again, doubt began to plague her mind, as though her relief at having found at least one of the people she had been close to still alive was at odds with the inherent distrust that such a thing could ever be possible. It could be a ruse—one of the people her father had warned her about, pretending to be someone she cared for to lure her in, and doing a damned fine job of being convincing in the process. And although she wanted to trust this man who seemed so like the one she used to know—though she wanted it so badly it hurt—Piper forced herself to come to a stop, her hands almost automatically seeking refuge in her jacket pockets while she spoke.

"What did you say to me when I left?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The last thing you said to me, before my dad sent me away," Piper persisted, her feet remaining rooted to the spot despite the fact that baser instinct had left her desiring nothing more than to follow after the man as though nothing was amiss, "What was it?"

It was something she could only hope no one else could have possibly overheard…

"Once we become predictable, we become vulnerable."

A shaky sigh escaped in response to the words that Piper had been praying she would hear all along, the tension that had been worrying at every muscle she seemed to possess leaving her in such a rush that her legs nearly gave out beneath her. Of course, she was poignantly aware of the fact that, even still, this could be some sort of ruse. That anyone could have overheard the parting exchange between herself and the man who had found her beside her father's grave, and decided to use it to lure her in. But some sort of instinct she had not even been aware she possessed seemed all but determined to allow her to believe that what she saw before her eyes was the truth—and so she continued to follow after the man, and shove all hesitation to the back of her mind for the time being, her hands balling into fists inside her jacket pockets until she could feel her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms.

"If you've managed to put down roots somewhere, Piper, I am more than capable of finding a contingency," The man stated, surprising his companion with the sudden shift in their conversation, and causing her to come to a stop once again with an entirely bewildered expression apparent upon her features, "I won't tear you away from a life, if you've built one for yourself."

"I haven't. There—there's no one I've ever been close enough to that I regret leaving them behind," Piper assured, her brow furrowing for a moment in the wake of such a remark, though she did her best to conceal it from her companion in the hopes that it would not provoke further questions.

She was determined not to let a single mistake get in the way of a chance to return to something of the life she had once known, no matter how foolish that desire may be…

"You're certain?"

"Absolutely positive."

"Splendid. Then you won't mind assisting me in acquiring another—helpmate—for what we are about to do?"

"Help-mate," Piper repeated, managing to catch up to her companion, and suppressing a faint grin at the familiar expression that had crossed his features in response to her inquiry—an expression that she had never thought she would see again, "How exactly am I going to assist you in finding this person?"

"Oh, I've already found him. But he might require some persuasion to join us."

"And I can help you persuade him?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"How?"

"Well that all depends on how willing you are to operate on little to no knowledge of what comes next," The man told her, a sly half-grin quirking up one corner of his mouth as he risked a glance at the young woman who walked beside him, and noticed that she had only just stifled a small laugh as well, "And how willing you are to pretend you know me no better than anyone else we come across on the street."

Stunned by the second half of her companion's apparent requirement, were she to take him up on his prospective offer, Piper did not immediately reply, her confusion causing her expression to shift from one of mild intrigue to an obvious frown while she tried to make sense of what she had just been told. She would have been lying to pretend that her very first thought upon seeing the man who had found her beside her father's grave was that she might have a shot at something she had dreamed of almost since the very moment she had left the city she had once called home—the chance to get some semblance of a family back, when she had so long believed that opportunity to be lost to her for good. But in spite of the fact that it seemed as though she would not be allowed to acknowledge that desire if she were to stay, Piper knew she was still every bit as committed to whatever it was that now stood before her as she had been at the start.

If pretending she did not know the man who had been like an uncle to her for as long as she could remember was the price that she had to pay to continue to have any interaction with him at all, she would accept it time and time again.

"Do I at least get to know what prompted this entire endeavor, in the first place?" Piper inquired, something in her companion's expression in response to her question giving her the answer to it before he ever had to say a word.

"All in due time, Piper. All in due time."

Unable to suppress the grin that rose to her lips at her companion's all but predictable reply, Piper settled for changing the course of her subtle interrogation over what, exactly, it was that she was about to become involved in, her gaze meeting her companion's with nothing short of blatant curiosity as she spoke once again.

"And this help-mate you mentioned? Am I allowed to know what to do about him?"

Watching as her companion reached into a jacket pocket and withdrew a small slip of paper so that he might slip it into her hand, Piper glanced at it momentarily, and furrowed her brow when she realized it was nothing more than a business card. For a moment, she was prepared to cast it off as immaterial, in favor of demanding more detailed instruction from the man that stood before her. But before she could do any such thing, Piper found herself forced back into silence as she met the man's gaze head-on, and realized he was already doing exactly that.

"Wait outside the police station for my text," He instructed, holding up a hand when he noticed that Piper had already opened her mouth to question his intentions, and only going on once he discerned that she had indeed opted for remaining silent, "I trust you can piece together the rest of what that card in your hand means on your own."

Before Piper could manage any form of reply or further inquiry, she was brought up short once again as she realized the man was now moving to walk away from her once more, something instinctive seeming to indicate that he did not wish for her to follow, in spite of the fact that the realization caused a pang of sadness to tug at her heart no matter how much she wished she could have stopped it. She knew, on some level, that she ought to simply remain silent and allow him to depart. That to call attention to either one of them would have potentially catastrophic consequences, to say the least. But before she was even fully aware of what it was that she was doing, she found herself calling out to the man's retreating frame, her voice cracking just a bit, and causing him to stop in his tracks so that he could turn to face her once more.

"Uncle Harold—how—how will I know where to find you again?"

"Take a closer look at that card in your hand, Piper. I'm sure it will give you all of the answers that you need."

Glancing back down at the card, the young woman felt a sudden jolt of recognition as she realized exactly what she had missed in her first cursory investigation of the name stamped upon it. It appeared that her companion had been right—it did, in fact, hold everything she might need to piece together what it was that he expected her to do. And although she knew full well that the gesture would be futile, she glanced up from her investigation of the card once again as though deciding to speak to the man once again, only to find that in the time since she had averted her gaze, he had already disappeared.

Exhaling, and turning to head back in the direction from which she had come while simultaneously stowing the card in her jacket pocket, Piper did what she could to blink away the sudden sting of tears that pricked at her eyes, her lips pursing into a thin line as though she truly did believe the gesture could ward off the sudden surge of emotion her recent encounter had brought about before she could stand a chance at stopping it. In truth, she ought to have suspected it would go exactly as it had, particularly knowing that her father's dear friend had always possessed a certain capacity for evading any sort of intrusive conversation topics, even if he did know a person rather well. But despite that latent awareness, Piper still could not entirely shake the spasm of surprise that had raced through her upon recognizing the name stamped on the card—the name of the person she was apparently supposed to portray—and that recognition brought along with it not only a startling sense of longing, but the bitterness of regret, as well.

Olivia Beauchamp. Attorney at Law.

Evidently, it was time to become a ghost…

…

A few hours later, Piper was seated on a bench outside the NYPD eighth precinct headquarters, her legs crossed at the ankles while she smoothed her hands over the pencil-skirt she wore for what felt like the hundredth time since she had arrived. She had gone back to her loft to change clothes in hopes of making her apparent cover identity seem more convincing—and although she would have been lying had she tried to pretend she was not at least somewhat curious over what the evening may entail, she was also a bit nervous, and out of her element, as well.

She had always preferred jeans and T-shirts to business formal, and yet here she was, the very picture of a prominent lawyer, from the hair knotted at the base of her skull, to the panty-hose that seemed all but determined to drive her insane.

Her own personal preferences notwithstanding, however, Piper was bound and determined to do as she had been instructed, the stubborn streak that her father had always teased her about serving her well, at least for the time-being. In truth, she still had several questions for the man she had encountered in the cemetery—questions that she knew she would play hell getting answers for. But no matter how hard the man she had come to think of as an uncle tried to resist, Piper was absolutely determined to get to the bottom of what reasons he had for indirectly bringing her back home.

If that meant she had to sit outside every police precinct in existence without a clue as to why she was there, then so be it.

As if in time with that particular line of thought, Piper felt her cell buzzing against her thigh through the material of her skirt and purse, her hand reaching for it on instinct despite the fact that she still hardly dared to make any guesses as to what she might see when she glanced at the screen. It had already dawned on her that her uncle had not bothered to ask for a contact number before he had left her to return to her father's grave. But in spite of that apparent reality, it seemed that he had managed to find a way to get his instructions to her anyway, her brow lifting in both surprise and amusement as she read the message now scrolling across the screen of her phone.

Extraction. See Det. Carter.

Standing, and smoothing her hands down her skirt one final time, Piper hurried up the steps and through the door, only pausing for a moment in an effort to take in her surroundings. To say that it was a prime example of well-maintained chaos would have been an understatement, with officers and detectives milling about, and paperwork strewn all over desk tops, as well. But before she could spend too much time distracted by that very realization, she was brought up short by the sound of a gruff voice directed at her person, her attention snapping to meet the man's gaze as he approached, with obvious suspicion apparent upon his face.

"Somethin' I can help you with, sweetheart?"

"I need to speak with a Detective Carter," Piper replied, aware of how the man's gaze seemed to slide over her frame, in spite of the fact that she was extending the card she had been given earlier that day towards him as proof that she had come on legitimate business, "Sooner rather than later would be preferable—"

"Might be later, by the looks of it. She's had a pretty busy day."

"Any chance she might see me anyway?"

"If she was a guy, I'd say no problem," The man said, taking the proffered card from Piper's hand, and simultaneously running his free hand through greying hair, and offering her what he so obviously thought was a winning smile before going on, "One look at you, and she'd be at your mercy."

"I suppose I'm lucky she's not a guy, then."

"Only if that means you're good with waiting a while. Like I said, she's had a busy day."

"And she's detaining one of my clients as we speak," Piper persisted, moving to step past the man and be on her way, only to find that he had latched onto her forearm to stop her in her tracks, "I suggest you let go of me, Detective—"

"It's Officer, actually."

"You still ought to consider letting me go—"

"Let her go, Simmons."

Turning to face the source of the unexpected intervention, Piper found herself more than a little startled to realize that her would be savior was yet another middle-aged man, though this one was quite a bit stockier than his counterpart that had just relinquished his hold upon her arm. Once again, she found her hands smoothing her skirt, before stepping towards the newcomer and extending a hand—something that he appeared more than a little willing to reciprocate as he managed a half-smile for her benefit before he spoke.

"Detective Fusco. Apologies for my friend, here. He likes to flirt before he thinks."

"Olivia Beauchamp. And it's not a problem at all," Piper assured, returning the man's smile, albeit a little tentatively, before risking a glance back at the man who had initially accosted her, "I was just asking your—friend, here, where I might find a Detective Carter."

"She's in the bullpen, talkin' to another one of the schmucks that were in that subway fight. Guess they got more than what they bargained for when they tried to take on a homeless guy."

"More than what they bargained for?"

"Yeah. Thought they'd have an easy victory since they had the numbers, but they never expected he'd go all Rambo on 'em before they could blink," Fusco explained, gesturing for Piper to follow him as he led the way further into the precinct, and towards a separate hall that clearly housed the aforementioned bullpen, instead, "He your guy?"

"I—yes. Yes, he is," Piper confirmed, hoping with all she had that the detective at her side would not take note of her hesitation, just as she prayed that her sudden instinct in deciding exactly who her 'client' should be was correct, "Where is he?"

"Right over there."

"Thank you, Detective."

Without even waiting for a reply, Piper headed toward the officer that was manning the desk in the small waiting area where her would-be client was seated, her heels clicking against the linoleum of the flooring as she moved. She knew that the success or failure of what she was about to do depended almost entirely upon her ability to play the part she had been given without faltering…

Even the smallest of slips could prove detrimental.

"Excuse me—I need to speak with my client—" She began, struggling, for a moment, to maintain a neutral facial expression as she acknowledged her surprise over the state of the man she was here to retrieve, "I trust he's been made aware of his rights?"

"I don't think that—"

"What? That it's important? Because I can assure you that it is."

"Ma'am, perhaps you should wait until Detective Carter is done with her interview. She'd be happy to speak to you herself," The woman answered, her posture rather quickly turning defensive as she realized Piper did not appear willing to back down.

"Is he being charged with anything?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation."

"Is he being charged with anything?" Piper repeated, risking a glance at the man in question, and noting that he appeared to be watching her with just the slightest bit of interest, despite the fact that he had not made a move from his seat. He was clad in tattered jeans, work boots, and jacket, the frayed ends of a scarf poking out from beneath the jacket hem such that his fingers could toy with those ends without his conscious awareness. In truth, he hardly looked suitable for the part that he was so obviously intended to play, though Piper was not entirely well-suited to say she had a right to make that judgment call, herself, given the circumstances. But perhaps what startled her the most about this man's appearance was the fact that, aside from the mild intrigue over her presence here, his expression was utterly devoid of even the remotest ounce of emotion, whatsoever.

Clearly, this was a man who had been to the edges of hell, and back, and Piper would have been a fool to ignore the slight shiver that realization sent down her spine, no matter the cost to her pride.

"He has no charges pending that I know of," The woman at the desk stated, then, effectively startling Piper out of her own thoughts, and causing her to redirect her attention back to the matter at hand.

"Then he's coming with me."

"I think Detective Carter will want to—"

"If Detective Carter has any questions, she can feel free to ask Detective Fusco for my card. The number's there for the taking," Piper cut in, ignoring the woman's startled expression over her interruption, and choosing instead to glance at the man in question directly, "Shall we?"

For a moment, it almost seemed as though the man had no interest in coming with her, his apparent desire to remain motionless causing her to experience the faintest spasms of doubt as she watched him carefully, and did her best to convey nothing more than a mild impatience to be on her way. If she were to be honest with herself, his delay only served to increase her suspicion that she had made the wrong choice. But before she could find any means of backtracking, she found that the man had finally chosen to stand, and head towards her with a slight sway in his step that indicated he had been at the bottle, likely just before his near-incarceration, and she found her doubts momentarily set aside in favor of her surprise at the significant advantage he had over her in height.

God, but he was tall…

Shaking herself away from such thoughts before they could render her completely out of her element, however, Piper squared her shoulders, and tilted her head back just enough so that she could look him in the eye, a shaky breath escaping in spite of her desire to avoid it as she realized the man had the sharpest pair of blue eyes she had ever seen.

"Where are we going, counsellor?" The man inquired, something not all that different from amusement lacing his tone as he regarded the woman standing before him, and noted that a faint flush seemed to have adorned her cheeks in response to his remark, though any embarrassment she felt did not stop her from issuing a reply almost immediately after the fact.

"Outside. Now."

She could only hope that, however her uncle had given her the information she needed before, he would do so again, or she and her newfound companion would be left outside the precinct with nowhere else to go…

…


	3. Asset Found

"Where are we going, Counsellor?"

"Outside," Piper deadpanned, suppressing a grin at the repeated inquiry, and stepping through the doors of the precinct, only to find herself flinching as a gust of cold air blew a few loose strands of hair about her face. Glancing around the block in close proximity to the precinct in hopes of finding some means of direction regarding what to do next, while her hands lifted to smooth some of the flightier strands of hair behind her ears, Piper soon registered the buzzing of her cell phone vibrating against her side from its position inside her purse, her brow furrowing as she dug through the bag until she found the device once again, and was able to read the words scrolling across the screen.

Due east. Black town car.

Turning her attention in the direction the text had indicated, and doing what she could to stow her phone back inside her purse as unobtrusively as possible, it didn't take long for her to notice the aforementioned town car, as well as the two rather sizeable men stationed on either side of it. And although she was still more than a little apprehensive regarding the nature of her business, here, she was not entirely foolish enough to go against the instructions she had just been given, her shoulders squaring as she prepared to head across the pedestrian walkway and towards the car in question.

Of course, what she could never have anticipated was the sudden sensation of being pulled back to the curb she had just tried to vacate, the strength inherent in the grip her would-be client had upon her wrist evoking a startled yelp before she could find the wherewithal to stop it. A quick glance at his features told her all she needed to know about the apparent reasoning behind his sudden action, his blue eyes zeroed in on the two men standing beside the town car across the street while he simultaneously gave her wrist a sharp tug as though wishing to place her behind him. And before she could fully realize what it was she was doing, Piper found herself resisting, her eyes meeting her companion's despite how his expression had caused her heart to pound against her ribs.

"Hey—it's okay. We can trust them," She cautioned, glancing down at where the man's hand still held onto her wrist, and forcing herself to swallow past the apprehension that was near to paralyzing before going on, "They're going to take us somewhere where we can talk."

"Men who look like they do aren't usually the type for peaceful transactions," The man pressed, startling Piper with the vehemence in his tone, though his grip upon her wrist appeared to have lightened just a bit. For a moment, she remained silent, her attention otherwise occupied with trying to discern exactly what this man must have gone through for him to harbor such mistrust for nearly anyone he came into contact with. But before she could become too distracted by such a thought, Piper forced her attention back to the present, her gaze flicking back down to where the man's hand still rested upon her wrist before she spoke.

"These ones are."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Look, if you don't trust them, I get it. I do," Piper admitted, deciding on a whim to allow at least some small piece of her own misgivings come to the surface, if for no other reason than the hope that perhaps it would persuade her companion to relax just a bit, and consequently give her reason to, as well, "But can you do me one small favor, regardless of all that?"

"Depends on the favor."

"Can you try to trust me?"

For a moment, Piper thought the man might refuse, his expression unreadable as he allowed his gaze to linger upon her features in such a way that a flush soon crept to her cheeks beneath its weight. Just as she had been prepared to try for an alternative tactic, however, she found the act unneeded, the sudden absence of the man's fingers around her wrist as he dropped his hand back to his side bringing a slight frown to her features before she was squaring her shoulders and looking him in the eye once again.

"I'll take that as a yes."

A slight twitch at one corner of his mouth was the only indication Piper had that he had even registered her remark at all, but it was enough to give her leave to begin heading across the intersection once again, the steady presence of the man at her side providing far more comfort than she might have expected, given their current situation. Though she would be damned if she ever admitted it aloud, the manner in which her companion seemed to hover beside her like some sort of protective shadow had done a great deal to reassure her, in spite of the fact that she suspected he would be every bit as capable of disposing of her as he would be of protecting her, depending on the circumstances.

She supposed she could only hope that if all of this went south, his methods of disposal would be quick…

Shaking her head to rid it of such a ridiculous notion, however, Piper did what she could to maintain a calm exterior, her attention shifting to the taller of the two men that stood beside the town car she had been directed towards while the hand that held the strap of her purse upon her shoulder tightened its grip as though in hopes that it would provide her the courage needed to move forward with a plan she only half-understood.

"Miss Beauchamp," The man intoned, stepping back so that he could open the rear passenger side door, and offering a curt nod towards her companion in the same motion. For a moment, it almost seemed as though the two men were sizing one another up, as though determined to find some manner of threat in the other's bearing. And, seeming to sense that such a thing could only hinder their progress, rather than helping it, Piper found herself stepping back towards her new companion's side, her hand instinctively reaching for his own before she could fully stop it, even in the face of the flash of something unrecognizable in his blue eyes as a result.

"It's okay—you can trust me, remember?"

Whether he was truly capable of believing her or not, the man seemed inclined to take Piper at her word, at least for the moment, following after her towards the open door of the vehicle, and watching with a cautious sort of curiosity as she relinquished her hold on his hand and climbed inside. It had become clear to her almost immediately that in order for her to get him in the car successfully, she would have to do so, first. Regardless of her own lingering misgivings, Piper was aware of enough of the man's character by this point to realize that whether he wanted to go along with this plan or not, he might not be inclined to allow her to venture into the unknown unprotected. And if the manner in which he almost immediately followed after her despite the lingering look that passed between him, and the man standing beside the vehicle were any indication, Piper knew she had been correct in her assumption, after all.

Now all that remained was to keep his obvious mistrust of their two traveling companions at bay until they reached whatever location Harold appeared to have in mind…

…

"You don't know where we're going either, do you?"

"Pardon?"

"You haven't stopped moving since we got in the car," The man explained, the raised brow and direct glance at her jigging leg bringing a flush to Piper's cheeks as she simultaneously shifted in an attempt at getting the idle motion to stop, and folded both arms across her chest as though to ward off a sudden chill.

"You've been watching me?"

"What else is there to watch?"

"Oh, I don't know—the scenery?" Piper mused, unable to resist the faint laugh that escaped as she realized her companion appeared more than a little amused at her remark, in spite of his reluctance to be on this particular journey to start with, "I'm fine."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Did you really think I would?"

"A man can dream."

"Really? That's the line you're going with?"

"It's the one that came to mind," The man admitted, a slight shrug following his attempt at explanation, and consequently provoking a faint smile to tug at the corners of Piper's mouth in response.

"Yeah, well, it could use some work."

"I'll do my best to remember that."

Shaking her head in a resigned sort of amusement over the man's remark, Piper shifted in her seat once again, this time so that she could face her companion directly before choosing to keep him engaged in conversation as best she could. Of course, she was not so foolish to believe that the task would be easy, particularly given her very real awareness that the man sitting beside her was hardly likely to be forthcoming with much beyond the art of trivial conversation. But even in spite of that knowledge, Piper was completely incapable of resisting, anyway, her gaze flicking over her companion's features for a moment before she spoke.

"So, what exactly made you go all Rambo on those kids on the subway?"

"That's the question you're going with?"

"I thought about asking for your name, first, but didn't think that would get me very far," Piper quipped, pleased to see that her remark had earned what might have been a short laugh from her companion, if she were to be presumptuous enough to interpret the sound as such, "Was I wrong?"

"What do you think?"

"Something tells me you already know."

"I never said I was a mind reader," The man replied, clearly aware of Piper's skeptically raised brow, and yet not permitting his expression to alter in the slightest, regardless. In truth, it was more than a little disconcerting that he appeared so skilled at masking his reactions, though she supposed that his current situation might make the capability of doing so a boon, rather than a disadvantage. But perhaps she would get used to it, as time went on…

Or at least she would if he went along with whatever Harold had planned, in the first place.

Brow furrowing in response to the unbidden thought, Piper fell silent for a moment, her attention turning inward as she once again attempted to discern a reason why this man, of all people, had piqued her uncle's interest. Obviously, he could fend for himself, at least as far as young thugs one might find on the subway were concerned. But beyond that, he hardly seemed the sort of person that would willingly align himself with a complete stranger, no matter the reason given for doing so in the first place.

Then again, what did that say about her for jumping in blindly when she had about as much insight into their true purpose as the man who sat beside her?

Shaking her head in resignation almost as soon as the question came to mind, Piper allowed herself to relax against the upholstered leather seat, her gaze flicking towards the two men in the front of the vehicle as she did so. Surprisingly, they did not appear even remotely interested in the goings on in the back seat, as neither one of them risked a single glance in the rearview mirror the entire time her eyes were on them. She supposed, given her uncle's apparent authority as it pertained to sending them to the precinct in the first place, that they may have been selected specifically for their seeming indifference. But even with that supposition in mind, she still found herself more than a little unnerved…

Something that her companion appeared to notice almost instantaneously, as evidenced by the sudden intrusion of his voice into her thoughts.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," She assured, forcing herself to look towards the man once again, and managing a slight half-smile in hopes of providing some manner of reassurance. Even with the man's unreadable expressions, Piper could clearly see the doubt in his eyes, though she was not quite as successful at determining why that doubt made her feel the faintest twinges of guilt, in response.

No matter how she might wish to deny it, Piper knew that the sudden twisting sensation in her stomach had nothing to do with hunger…

Still, she was determined to resist the urge to understand the precise reason behind that guilt at this particular moment, especially as it seemed her companion was already more perceptive regarding her shifts in demeanor than she had first anticipated. She could feel the weight of his blue eyes on her, though the realization was not entirely as uncomfortable as she might have thought. And although she was more than a little curious as to the reasoning behind that particular development, as well, Piper absolutely refused to allow herself to become distracted by it, her posture straightening just a bit before she forced her gaze to meet her companion's once more before she broke the silence between them once more.

"I really am fine, you know. It might not hurt you to take a girl at her word every once and a while."

She supposed she should consider herself fortunate that her remark was met with the first faint signs of genuine laughter, and not the same inscrutable mask that had been her near to constant companion since their journey had begun…

…

Lingering beside the town car with the two hulking men who appeared to be in her uncle's employ, Piper chewed her lip idly while watching the hushed conversation taking place near the bench by the water's edge. She could hear nothing of whatever it was that they were saying to one another, and perhaps that was the intent, as Harold had very clearly given her a minute shake of the head as she had started following after her recent travelling companion, thus forcing her to remain behind despite how badly she had wanted to be privy to the discussion between the two men, herself. But regardless of her own personal feelings on her apparent exclusion, Piper was not exactly willing to risk going against Harold's wishes, no matter how unusual they might seem.

For the moment, at least, she had managed to gain some semblance of the familiar back in her life, and she would be damned if she did anything to deliberately compromise that chance to make the unanticipated change permanent.

Unexpectedly steeled by such a thought, Piper leaned back against the town car and folded both arms across her chest, a slight smile toying at one corner of her mouth as she simultaneously became aware of the raised brow that the man to her right had given her in response. Inasmuch as she was curious as to what purpose her uncle may have in enlisting a homeless man's aid in his as yet unexplained task, she was also very much intrigued to know exactly why he had hired the two hulking men standing on either side of her significantly smaller frame. And although some small part of her knew that any explanation Harold gave her might very well be a dodge around the actual truth, Piper was resolved to at least attempt to ask him for full disclosure as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Stubborn curiosity had always been a fault of hers…

Still, Piper was very well aware that such a topic of conversation would have to be broached carefully, her memories of the man in question, as well as his habits, from the time before her father had been taken from them both indicating that he had guarded his methods and motives with an almost ferocious tenacity. In the past, it had always been something she had rather admired, particularly when nearly everyone else she knew seemed obsessed with spilling every last detail of their lives out for the entire world to see. But now? Now she was not entirely sure her desire to discern exactly what purpose he had in mind for both her own person, and the man he was engaging in conversation would allow for anything less than an impatient interrogation.

As if he seemed to sense her line of thought, even from a distance, Harold turned and met Piper's gaze head-on, his expression provoking a slight shrug from her shoulders before she could make any attempt to stop it. It was as though the simple act of glancing her way had been an unspoken question—as if he suspected her of wanting to know more, and doing anything she could to make that goal a reality, without her having ever said a word. And she would have been a fool to pretend that her uncle's apparent ability to see through her without so much as a hint at a difficult time was not at least a little disheartening, particularly as she knew she would likely play hell getting any information out of him at all if he could see her coming from a mile away.

In the brief expanse of time it took for Piper to come to that conclusion, however, both Harold, and his companion appeared to have decided to begin walking back towards her, the impact of such a realization prompting her to straighten once again while one hand fell to the task of adjusting her bag's strap in its place upon her shoulder. For a moment, she was poignantly aware of the fact that the taller of the two men appeared to have fixed his gaze upon her, his expression once again unreadable as she quickly averted her attention to her uncle, instead. In spite of her apparent desire to avoid it, Harold appeared not to have missed the look that passed between the man he hoped would be his associate, and the young woman standing between two of his other 'employees' beside the town car. But, much to Piper's relief, he did not appear inclined to question her on it, at least at the present, instead choosing to offer her a faint hint of a smile before he spoke.

"If you don't mind, Miss Beauchamp, I believe Mister Reese and I will venture on from here on our own," He began, becoming almost immediately aware of the young woman's obviously startled expression, and holding up a hand to waylay her impending protest so that he might elaborate, "Don't worry, I'm not going to force you to walk all the way back home."

Following his glance towards the drive that extended back toward the main road behind them, Piper found herself startled to note that another town car appeared to be approaching in time with his words, her brow furrowing as she fought against the surprising sense of disappointment that her part in this particular ordeal appeared to be at an end. Of course, a small part of her knew that he must clearly have a reason for such a thing, whether she could ever hope to understand it or not. But regardless of that awareness, Piper was not entirely prepared to simply depart without a word, her voice cracking as she spoke, and causing her to flinch in response as she realized it hardly fit the image of the confident lawyer her uncle had asked her to portray.

"I'm—leaving?"

"For now," Harold replied, the look of gentle admonition in his blue eyes effectively stalling any further protest that Piper might have made, though he was not blind to the briefest flickers of hurt that passed across her features before she had rearranged them into a stoic mask of acceptance, instead, "I'll be in touch, of that I can assure you."

Only managing a nod in response, Piper spared one final, furtive glance at the taller man standing beside her uncle, a jolt of surprise clutching at her chest as she realized he appeared to still be watching her, as well. Unbidden, a hint of a flush rose to her cheeks, forcing her to avert her eyes once again and turn to head towards the aforementioned town car as it idled to a stop a few feet away. She could still feel the weight of the other man's gaze upon her, though she did not succumb to the somewhat instinctive desire she felt to turn back and look at him head-on. And although some small part of her was still very reluctant to simply allow herself to be dismissed, such as it was, Piper forced herself to remain intent upon the task of opening the rear passenger side door of the vehicle and getting inside, only allowing herself to glance back at the two men in question once the door was safely shut and she rested in relative invisibility behind the cover of the tinted window.

To say anything other than that they were quite possibly the most mismatched pair she had ever seen would have been a gross understatement, to be sure…

…

Around an hour or two later, Piper was seated at the over-large dining table that her father had purchased on impulse for the loft he moved to after the divorce, the fingers of one hand drumming idly against the mahogany surface while her eyes roamed over the nearly endless array of boxes splayed out over its surface. Upon her return, she had initially intended to start going through those boxes, if only to distract herself from the myriad of thoughts that seemed all but determined to keep zipping around in her mind, warring for control. But despite all her efforts, she had hardly even managed to make it through one box alone, instead choosing to sit in one of the upholstered chairs, while simultaneously allowing her wayward inner musings to run rampant.

Harold had told her he would be in touch, and even though she had not seen the man in what felt like ages, she knew she could take him at his word. After all, he had never given her reason to doubt him before—not even when the formerly sunny sky had turned to a sudden deluge on the day he was to take both herself, and her older brother to the zoo for an afternoon, and he had simply gathered three umbrellas and driven them to the store to purchase rain jackets and sturdier boots for the excursion. In truth, she had always admired that about him, no matter how it had taken her a relatively short period of time to learn that he was a man that played things very close to the chest, except for with those he had chosen to trust.

She supposed that very quality had been what had served her most on the day her father had chosen to send her away, as it had enabled her to move about with relative ease, shedding certain identities as though they were a second skin…

Still, she would have been a liar to pretend that she would not have preferred an alternate lifestyle, no matter the danger that such a thing might have posed. She had absolutely no idea, of course, of the true reasons why her father had felt it necessary to take such drastic action to keep her safe. But regardless of that lack of knowledge, or the inherent sting of disappointment that he had not seen fit to trust her with it to begin with, Piper was also wise enough to know that he would have never done it if there had been any other way of keeping her and her brother safe.

Bringing a hand up to dash at the errant tears that such a thought had brought to her mind, and doing what she could to force the startlingly potent resurgence of grief to the back of her mind, Piper found herself jumping as the sudden buzzing of her cell phone against the perfectly tended wood of the table effectively startled her out of her reverie. Glancing down at the device, and pausing for only a moment before reaching out to bring it to her ear, Piper emitted a faint sigh, her curiosity seeming to outweigh her grief as she leaned back against the chair she occupied, and cleared her throat in hopes that her voice would not sound too haggard as she spoke.

"Hello?"

"I'm sending you an address. Can you be there in thirty minutes?"

"Give or take," Piper replied, standing amidst a wince at the tell-tale scrape of the chair's legs against the loft's hardwood floor, and tugging her free hand through her hair while simultaneously moving towards the opposite end of the table where she had left her purse, "Did you have any luck with our friend at the bridge?"

"That, unfortunately, is why I am asking for your assistance, now."

"He said no?"

"It can be inferred, yes," Harold admitted, something not all that far from true regret coloring his tone, and prompting Piper to pause in the act of securing the strap of her purse around her shoulder to listen more carefully to what he said next, "I'm afraid I have to ask for your assistance for a second time."

"You say that as though you really think I would object."

"I would certainly never hold it against you if you did."

"Well I won't," Piper assured, securing her purse and heading towards the door of the loft so that she could turn off the lights, and head outdoors once more, after ensuring that the door had been shut securely behind her retreating form, "What is it you need me to do?"

"I think it best if I tell you that once you arrive. Be safe, Piper."

"Will do."

The call disconnected before the young woman could get another word out, and although she was left more than a little uncertain over what possible reason Harold may have for keeping her in the dark regarding her newfound assignment, she could hardly pretend not to be eager to get out the door—

If nothing else, perhaps whatever task her uncle had in mind would serve to divert her thoughts from rehashing the old memories that had come flooding back almost as soon as she had entered her father's old loft.

…


	4. Negotiations

"So let me get this straight," Piper began, perching on the edge of the bed in the hotel room Harold's text had directed her to, and depositing her purse on the mattress beside her before going any further, "You want me to sneak into the room next door, where you've conveniently placed our 'friend' from earlier, and tie him to the headboard?"

"That is the essence of it, yes—"

"Since when did you escalate from the insurance business to kidnapping and holding prisoners, Uncle Harold?"

"I would hardly call our companion a prisoner," Harold protested, a look of apparent distaste crossing his bespectacled features as he regarded the young woman seated upon the bed with an expression that belied the seriousness of what it was that they were about to do, "I prefer to call it resorting to other measures when the first attempt at persuasion has failed."

"Is there a reason one of your other—associates—couldn't have done the same thing you want me to do, now?"

"I thought this particular method might call for a more delicate touch."

"Delicate. You mean light-weight," Piper surmised, having already been made aware of the exact nature of the disadvantage she possessed in comparison to her uncle's other compatriots when it came to height and weight, "Afraid Rambo One and Rambo Two will shake the bed and wake him up?"

"Essentially."

"What makes you so sure that I won't?"

"From what I recall, you've always had a gentler way of doing things than most, when the situation required it."

"Gentle enough to stop an obviously skilled fighter from kicking my ass if I screw up?"

"I very much doubt he would ever hurt a woman, Piper," Harold countered, something in the tone of his voice giving her every reason to believe that he truly did feel that she would be safe in the task he had just given her, "Though as always, you are welcome to refuse if—"

"Who ever said I was refusing?"

"You always have that option."

"I don't plan on taking it," Piper insisted, surprising herself with the sudden ferocity behind her words, and yet refusing to back down even in the face of Harold's obviously startled expression, "When exactly did you want me to do this thing, then?"

"Before our mutual friend wakens from his alcohol-induced nap, would be preferable."

Unable to stop the short laugh that escaped in response to Harold's remark, Piper moved to stand, and headed towards the hotel room door once more, only pausing for long enough to grab the proffered key card that her uncle had extended her way, before moving on. She had almost made it through the doorway entirely, when she turned on a heel and glanced back towards where Harold still remained seated in the chair beside the bed, one brow cocked in obvious amusement for a moment before she spoke.

"If he kills me, Uncle Harold, I'll make sure my ghost comes back to haunt you for the rest of your life."

"Duly noted. And Piper?"

"Yes?" The young woman inquired, once again turning back to face her uncle, and finding herself mildly surprised that he had donned the faintest of smiles for her benefit as a result.

"Though I do doubt Mister Reese will hurt you, please try to be careful."

"I'll do my best."

In spite of her growing apprehension over what exactly Harold appeared to want her to do, Piper would have been a liar to pretend that it was not still another thing that only made her all the more intrigued to get to the bottom of why she even had to do it in the first place…

…

Doing what she could to ensure that the hotel room door closed soundlessly behind her, Piper moved into the semi-darkened room as quietly as she could, and sending a silent thank you heavenward as the thick carpeting rendered her footfalls inaudible. Already, she could see the large frame of her former travelling companion, sprawled out on top of the bedsheets, a light snore reaching her ears, and prompting a faint smile to toy at her lips in response. And although she had been prepared to encounter the same bedraggled man in relatively poor condition, just as he had been earlier that very day, Piper was forced to bite back a gasp of shock as she stepped just a bit closer to the bed, and got a closer look at the man resting there.

In the time since she had last seen him, he had cleaned up significantly, and even managed to shave and cut his hair, the transformation rather startling, to say the least. For a moment, Piper simply remained where she stood, very nearly transfixed by the man's drastic change in appearance. But before she could become too distracted by the realization that he now appeared years younger, despite the small fringe of graying hair that remained at his temples, she was brought up short by the sudden stinging sensation that the unexpected smell of strong liquor brought to her nostrils, her nose wrinkling as she realized it appeared to be coming from the man sprawled out upon the bed, and not an open bottle somewhere nearby.

Alcohol induced nap, indeed…

Frowning at the potential implications of such a fact, the young woman spared a moment for closer consideration of the features of the man in question, her gaze roaming from the small wisps of hair that spread across his brow, to the dark eyelashes that fanned out across sharp cheekbones. In truth, the man was far better looking than she had initially given him credit for, and she soon found that she was fighting against the surprising need to brush the hair away from his brow with her fingertips, her lips pursing into a small frown as she wrenched herself upright once again, and prepared to set about the task at hand.

The tie in question was placed on the nightstand just as Harold had said, though she had not noticed it until just now. And so, in spite of her momentary distraction, Piper reached for the object and risked another step closer towards the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she contemplated the best way of going about what she had been asked to do.

The man—Reese—was resting on the bed in such a way that she could not exactly reach his arm to secure it to the headboard by simply standing where she was, even if she leaned over his prone frame to do so. And although she was more than a little reluctant to do anything that might risk waking her sleeping companion, Piper knew that to do what her uncle had requested of her, she would have to at least kneel upon the mattress to reach for his arm, a slow breath escaping her lungs as she squared her shoulders and inched forward as quietly as she could with the tie still clutched tightly in one hand.

Placing one knee upon the mattress as slowly as she dared, the young woman shifted the tie to her left hand while the right reached out to steady her weight using the headboard, her movements so slow that they seemed to take hours, and not the mere moments that truly passed, in reality. In truth, keeping an eye on both the steady rise and fall of the man's chest, in addition to her own tentative position upon the bed was a bit more involved than Piper had initially anticipated. But, in spite of her current doubts, she found that she was able to slowly scoot forward on the mattress until she rested close enough to Reese's sleeping frame to be able to reach for his arm.

This, she thought, was where things might get tricky.

A glance at the arm, wrist, and hand in question gave Piper a rather effective view of the bruises that were still healing from his altercation on the subway, a slight frown marring her features as she realized even in the face of his obvious skill when it came to fending off potential adversaries, even this man could be vulnerable to injury. For a moment, she simply stared at the faint discolorations on the skin of his forearm, a single fingertip reaching out to trace one of the marks before she could stop it.

Of course, Reese would choose that particular moment to emit a low groan and shift slightly upon the bed, causing Piper to freeze where she was with her fingertip still lingering against his skin, and her heart lodged firmly in her throat…

Remaining motionless until she was sure that the man would not actually wake, and discover her in her somewhat compromising position, Piper forced her attention away from the bruises, and set to the task of curling her fingers around his wrist, instead, so that she could slowly start the task of lifting it and securing it to the headboard. From the looks of things, he appeared far too inebriated to actually register any of what she was doing, though the young woman was not entirely willing to let her guard down entirely, regardless.

In spite of the doubts Harold had expressed regarding the man's capability of actually causing her bodily harm, she was more than a little convinced that if Reese were to wake with a strange woman in bed with him, he would, in fact retaliate, and would be well within his rights to do so, besides.

Determined to avoid that outcome if at all possible, Piper finally succeeded in bringing the man's wrist to a level with the headboard, thus allowing her to begin the task of securing it there with the tie Harold had provided. In truth, she was surprised that the minor jostling had not woken him, despite his apparent level of inebriation. But that surprise did not render her completely blind to the fact that she was incredibly lucky that Reese was still sleeping…

She had some skill at fending for herself in physical altercations, but she highly doubted she could hold her own against the man still snoring slightly beneath her.

Still, she was able to secure his wrist to the headboard as tightly as she dared without risking the circulation in his arm with no trouble at all, her body slowly easing backwards off of the bed, without even causing her companion to move a muscle. For a moment, she simply stood beside the edge of the bed, once again held captive by the steady rise and fall of the man's broad chest. But almost as soon as she had allowed herself to become transfixed, she was forcing her attention to turning back to head towards the hotel room door, only turning back for long enough to whisper an apology, even knowing Reese would never hear it.

"I'm sorry. I have no idea what my friend is about to do, but I'm sorry."

Somehow, she knew that if what Harold wanted required tying a man to a bed, it couldn't be good.

…

A few hours later found Piper seated on the bed with her legs tucked beneath her and a mug of steaming tea clasped between both hands, brown eyes fixed upon the vibrant blue of her uncle's as she regarded him where he sat in the chair across from her. She had insisted—demanded, really—that he give her at least some manner of information to go on as it pertained to what it was, exactly, that they were attempting to do. And now that he had told her the truth, or what amounted to some of it, at the very least?

She was not entirely sure that she believed him.

"So, this—thing—that you built—"

"The Machine."

"The Machine," Piper amended, a frown marring her features as she glanced at the contents of the mug in her hands for a moment before going on with her attempted line of questioning, "It tells you when people are going to be in trouble?"

"In a simplistic sense, yes."

"And you—what? Get them out of it?"

"Until now, I have been able to do very little in that regard," Harold admitted, something akin to raw sadness and regret passing over his features as he said the words, and giving Piper every reason to believe that for whatever reason, his confession had been eating away at him for a manner of time, even prior to her arrival in the city she had once called home, "My hope is that, if both you, and our friend in the next room are willing, that might change."

"How? How is it that the two of us can make anything any different than it was before?"

"Because you, at least, were never meant to be kept entirely in the dark."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that when your father and I first started this entire ordeal, he wanted you to know what it was we were doing. He wanted Will to know, as well," Her uncle explained, aware of the obvious widening of Piper's eyes, and endeavoring to go on before she had a mind to interrupt, "I was the one that persuaded him to keep the secret closer to the vest, and I fear it may have set things in motion that neither of us could have predicted, as a result."

"So, the—the message—it was really him?"

"Inasmuch as I can attempt to confirm that without having heard it myself, yes. He wanted you to have it if anything should ever happen to him, and I still held back. For that, Piper, I cannot tell you how very sorry I am."

"From what I understand, you had about as little idea of where he had sent me as anyone else," Piper stated, reaching forward with one hand to reach for Harold's where he had placed it upon his knee, and giving it a squeeze despite the obvious look of shock that passed over his features in response, "But that still doesn't answer the question of exactly what he thinks I can do about any of this."

"Truthfully, I am not entirely certain that he knew the answer to that question, either."

"So why send for me to start with? Does—did he want something passed on to Will, as well?"

"The only message I found was the one the Machine sent on to you," Harold informed, watching Piper's reaction rather carefully, and not failing to notice the slight faltering in her expression at having the prospect of a reunion with her brother potentially removed, "I discovered it when I regained access to the software, and found that I finally had no further excuses for denying you the chance at receiving it, regardless of my own lingering doubts."

"I don't suppose you're going to let me in on exactly what those doubts might be?"

"Not at the present, Piper. There are much more important things to consider, at the moment, and I think you know that as well as I."

"So, what do we do now?" Piper inquired, glancing down at the tea she held in her hands once more, and forcing herself to manage a sip despite the fact that the scalding liquid still burned against her tongue, "What if what you're trying to do with our friend in the other room backfires, and we're on our own?"

"Then I will endeavor to find another individual more willing to give this a chance. I have done so, before."

"You—you have?"

"Yes. My former associate—it turns out he was not the best of choices, on my part."

"Did he quit?"

"In a manner of speaking," Harold confirmed, the look he gave Piper in that moment seeming to suggest that this other man's departure was not exactly under the sort of circumstances that meant he was free to seek other employment. For a moment, she found herself contemplating the possibility that such a thing had been her uncle's doing, particularly as he had made no secret of the fact that what it was that he endeavored to do was never to be made known to anyone outside of their small inner circle. But almost as soon as the thought came to mind, she was rapidly forcing it to the side, a slight flush adorning her cheeks as guilt over the simple thought of suspecting the man sitting before her of murder threatened to overwhelm her while he spoke once more, "I will not lie to you, Piper. This undertaking is not exactly what one might call safe."

"What I was doing since Dad sent me away wasn't exactly like living in a glass house either, Uncle Harold. I think I'll be fine."

"I don't suppose you'll ever see fit to tell me exactly what it was that you were doing while you were away?"

"Not all of it was entirely legal," Piper deadpanned, managing a faint grin for Harold's benefit, and knowing, somehow, that she would eventually end up telling him absolutely everything despite not being ready to do so at this precise moment, "Would you believe me if I said I'd give you full disclosure in the future?"

"As long as you would grant me the same benefit, as well. I may not be able to tell you everything you need or want to know at once, but I will do my best to be fully forthcoming in such a way that still keeps us both safe."

"That sounds fair to me."

"Good," Harold acknowledged, glancing at the ornate watch that rested on his wrist, and heaving himself up from his chair, albeit with some small amount of difficulty, before going on, "I think it might be just about time for us to get started."

"What do you need me to do?"

"For the moment? Keep yourself out of sight in the walk-in closet," Harold instructed, one corner of his mouth twitching for a moment as he took in the bemused expression his young companion wore, before returning his attention to the task at hand, "It will better serve the both of us if Mister Reese does not immediately know of the connection between us. For now, you should use the name I gave you to get into the precinct until we know a bit more about him, as well."

"And the whole hiding in the closet thing? That will serve us well, too?"

"It will."

"Okay, then," Piper consented, a small sigh escaping as she stood from her position on the bed, and carried her mug of tea, and her purse over to the aforementioned closet without further question. On the way, she deposited the cup on the small table resting beside the television stand, hoping that if Harold actually brought the man in the other room into this one, he would not notice that it contained the remnants of her tea—

Of course, she might have anticipated that Harold would be prepared for exactly just such an outcome, the halting sounds of his footfalls echoing behind her as he moved to grab for the cup and tuck it in a cupboard that rested behind his own chair while she secured her position in the aforementioned closet and shut the door behind her.

For now, it seemed, all that was left to do was watch, and wait.

…

Sequestered in the walk-in closet, Piper watched through the small crack between the doors as her uncle hobbled out of sight, the faint click that echoed throughout the room causing her brows to furrow for a moment before she registered other voices—a woman's, and a man's—moving in to fill the silence. The two were clearly involved in some sort of argument, if the muted crashes, and the woman's shrieks were any indication. And although she knew very well, just from listening, that the dialogue was from a recording of some sort, Piper was at a loss as to exactly how it was supposed to help win the man who her uncle referred to as 'Mister Reese' to their side.

If anything, she thought it might just make him all the more inclined to turn them away.

Still, she remained where she was, doing what she could to keep the level of her breathing as quiet as possible, until the sound of a faint crash from the room next door reached her ears. Clearly, the man her uncle seemed so sure would help them had woken from his alcohol-induced slumber, and was now interpreting the sounds coming from the recording as signs of an actual struggle. And in spite of the fact that Piper still had to question Harold's motives for making the man think he was actually about to bear witness to a crime, she could not help but acknowledge a faint sense of admiration for the man as he quite literally barreled through the door adjoining the rooms, a slight wince passing over her features as she heard the telltale thump that signified he had fallen to the ground.

Despite what must have been an absolutely horrendous hangover, if the smell of strong liquor that had been coming off of him the evening prior were any indication, the man seemed capable of righting himself rather efficiently, the significant advantage he possessed in height over her uncle causing Piper's muscles to tense as she waited on baited breath in the cover provided by the walk-in closet. Compared to their interaction at the precinct, and in the town car, Piper noted that the man's expression appeared to be relatively unguarded, with confusion and anger at war with each other, instead of the usual impassivity that she had become accustomed to in such a small period of time. But perhaps what struck her as more unusual was the very obvious lack of concern for his own well-being that she saw so clearly in Harold's stance as he remained standing before his companion, his words never wavering as he attempted to explain what it was that he wanted with Reese, in the first place.

"You're too late, Mister Reese. The woman on that recording you just heard? She was killed in this very room. For the insurance money," Harold began, his gaze never wavering from its investigation of his counterpart as he tossed the newspaper he had been perusing onto a nearby table, before going on, "You couldn't get there in time to save her. Just like you couldn't get there in time to save your friend Jessica."

The mention of that name appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be the catalyst for what came next, a gasp escaping Piper's lips before she could stop it as she watched, dumbfounded, while the taller of the two men effectively propelled his companion backwards until his back thudded against the wall, and he was pinned by an arm to the throat. She could see so very clearly that Harold was out of his depth, here, his hands seeming to scrabble for purchase against the much larger man's arm as it continued to pin him against the wall. And before she could even fully realize what she was doing, particularly in light of how Harold had so clearly informed her she was to stay out of sight, Piper was yanking the gun she had stowed inside her purse to her side before dropping the bag to the ground, and wrenching open the closet door so that she could step into the room, and level the barrel of the weapon at the man who looked as though he could end Harold with the barest hints of movement in the same motion.

"Let him go," She demanded, thankful that, despite her wayward nerves, and pounding heart, her voice did not waver in the slightest, "Now."

For a moment she was not entirely sure that Reese was willing to cooperate, the almost inhuman expression that had passed over his features causing her finger to twitch just a bit on the trigger in spite of her genuine desire to avoid having to do anything rash. But just as she was preparing to actually fire the weapon clutched in white-knuckled hands, Piper found herself exhaling in a rush as Reese pulled away from Harold in an instant, both hands falling slowly back to his sides while blue eyes remained fixed upon her.

"I thought you said I could trust you, Counsellor—"

"You can. But that won't stop me from doing what I can to prevent you hurting him."

Something unreadable passed over the man's features in response to her words, before he seemed to decide that taking a seat in a nearby chair was the best option. The gesture was enough to have Piper relaxing just a bit, despite the rather significant look she received from Harold in response to her sudden appearance. And although she knew she would likely hear about that decision of hers once they were alone, Piper could not entirely bring herself to regret it.

He was the only family she had left, save her brother, and her mom, and she was not about to allow him to come to harm, regardless of whether he approved of her decision or not.

In spite of her apparently unwanted intervention, Piper noted that for his part, Harold appeared to be still in possession of his carefully constructed aura of calm, the steps he took to get back to his own chair sure, even in the face of the limp she had noticed when he first came to her in the cemetery. Instinct prompted her to follow, so that she could come to stand slightly behind the chair he had chosen, one hand still holding the gun securely at her side, ready on the off chance that she was required to use it again.

She did not particularly want to harm Reese, but she was resolved to do so if he became a threat to Harold a second time.

"You couldn't help the woman on this recording, Mister Reese. Any more than you could have helped your friend," Harold entreated, his words effectively redirecting Piper's attention from the tall man seated across from him, and causing her brow to furrow in response to what he said, next, "But you can help the people that have come to my attention, now. The question is, will you?"

Piper supposed she would have been a fool to pretend she did not see the answer in the taller man's eyes, even before the slight nod he gave to indicate what amounted to a tentative consent…

Distracted as she was by that minute gesture, Piper found herself surprised to find that Harold had now turned to face her, directly, his eyes searching her features as though he had any doubt as to what her own answer might be. She could tell, without him having to say a word, that he was once again prepared to give her a chance to walk away. But before he could verbalize that very obvious desire he had to give her an out, such as it was, Piper shook her head, the hand that was not holding the weapon at her side coming to rest upon Harold's shoulder so that she could give it a light squeeze before she spoke.

"I'm in," She said, very much aware of how Reese appeared to be watching her with the slightest hint of curiosity apparent upon his expression, and choosing to take advantage of that very fact as she turned her attention towards him, before speaking once again, "On one condition."

"Name it, Miss Beauchamp."

"Our friend, here, has to permit me to take care of that nasty cut on his hand. Seeing as I'm the one responsible for it, I think it's only fair."

If nothing else, the briefest flickers of honest surprise that flitted over Reese's features in response to her assertion was worth the risk she took in making the confession to begin with.

…


	5. A Beginning

(Reno, Nevada 2009)

The brunette sat in a corner booth of the hotel bar, fingers toying idly at the straw placed in the rum and coke she had ordered, but as yet had not deigned to drink, while hazel eyes roamed the surrounding area in an unusually listless fashion. Since her departure from her hometown three days prior, she had obtained a scant four hours of sleep, her tumultuous thoughts prohibiting any sort of repose no matter how fiercely she might have longed for a respite from her woes. In truth, those rare moments when she did succumb to slumber were, more often than not, plagued by the very worst sort of fears her mind could conjure, given the rapid nature of her enforced relocation.

She supposed, in the grand scheme of things, maybe exhaustion was better than the potential for paralyzing fear that would no doubt plague her if she continued to dream as she had…

Still, a small part of her remained hopeful that she would be able to sleep eventually, knowing as she did that if she persisted in remaining awake, exhaustion would eventually pull her down. Given her current circumstances, Piper was very well aware that even a moment's inattention due to her hazy mental state could spell the difference between life and death. Before her departure, hell—even years before the unexpected had happened, she had been schooled to maintain a cautious awareness of her surroundings at all times as a result of the simple fact that she was a woman, coming into her own in New York City. But something about her current situation seemed to make her believe that no matter what she did, reality would eventually prove to be inescapable. Sooner or later, whatever it was that had prompted her father to send her away in the first place would find her, whether she wanted it to, or not.

Try though she might to avoid it, she could not stop her father's final words to her from playing on a loop inside her mind, her breath leaving her in a shaky rush as she brought both hands up to massage at already throbbing temples.

"This is to keep you safe, angel. If you don't believe anything else I say, at least trust me in that."

A groan escaped as the words echoed in her mind once more, one hand dropping to the beverage placed before her on the table as she finally took the liberty of imbibing in the drink. As she might have expected, the alcohol burned on its way down her throat, evoking a wince while she simultaneously replaced the glass in its original location upon the table. In truth, she was hardly aware of the fact that she had managed to down the entire beverage in one go, the stinging sensation that the act brought to her eyes making it difficult to discern if her blurred vision were truly the result of alcohol, or latent emotions brought about by finding herself alone, hundreds of miles away from the only life she had ever known. And it would have been a lie to pretend that she did not harbor at least some modicum of resentment towards her father for sending her here, particularly when she had no inkling of what she was expected to do with herself until he deemed it safe for her to return.

Unlike her brother, she did not even have a pliable career to turn to at this point, and that left her with the unsettling realization that she would have to think fast to come up with a means of providing for herself, should the funds her father had given her prior to her departure run out.

Still, Piper was determined to do what she could to follow his instruction to the letter, never settling in one place for long enough to allow anyone close enough to gain any insight into who she truly was, the self-imposed isolation that was inherent in such a lifestyle hardly daunting, despite how she knew full well that her existence from here on out would likely be a lonely one. Her lingering misgivings over the hasty retreat she had made from the city she loved aside, however, Piper trusted her father implicitly, knowing full well that he would never have been so withholding if he had possessed another choice. He would never have kept her in the dark willingly, no matter the cost to his own personal gain, in the process. And in spite of how she still wished with all she had that her current situation had not been rendered necessary, she would have been a fool to pretend that she was not the slightest bit frightened by the potential reasons behind that situation in the first place, her brow furrowing as she flagged the bartender for another drink, before glancing out the window immediately to her left, and setting her sights on the rainswept streets behind the glass.

It was true that she was still in the dark when it came to finding a way to make a living, particularly if the majority of her time would be spent hopping from place to place, trying to evade whoever it was her father had been so determined to protect her from. But regardless of that apparent wrench in what might have otherwise been a semi-successful alternate life, Piper knew on some level that she would not find herself unequal to the task.

After all, this would not be the first time she was required to think fast, and she had always been one for landing flat on her feet after an unexpected fall…

…

(New York, September 2011)

"You're going to want to change this dressing every day," Piper instructed, securing the stray bit of fabric on the makeshift bandage she had wrapped around Reese's bleeding palm with a small silver clip, and pressing gently against the material to ensure that it stayed in place, before going on, "And keep that wound as clean as you can. I don't have access to antibiotics if you get an infection."

"I'll do my best," The man—Reese—replied, his blue-eyed gaze never wavering from Piper's significantly smaller frame as she turned away from her former position tending to his injury, in favor of heading towards the first aid kit she had retrieved from the hotel room bathroom just moments ago, "And thank you."

"For what?"

"For patching me up."

"I'm not so sure I deserve the credit for that," Piper countered, pursing her lips for a moment as she reorganized the sundry supplies in the kit, before sliding it shut with a snap, and turning back to face her companion head-on, "After all, I'm the one behind why you got the injury in the first place."

"One day you'll have to explain exactly how you managed to do that, you know."

"That implies that you're actually going to be sticking around."

"Are you?" The man inquired, rather effectively redirecting Piper's attempted line of interrogation away from his own intentions, and forcing it back to her in such a way that she flinched, in spite of her apparent desire to avoid it.

"Am I what?"

"Sticking around?"

"I think you and I already know the answer to that question," Piper stated, frowning a bit at the realization that her inquiry had been rather effectively rerouted, without her companion even batting an eye, "And it gives me a bit of insight into your own intentions as well."

"How?"

"If you intended to leave so quickly, I doubt you would care one way or the other whether I was staying along, as well."

"What makes you so sure that I care, even now?"

"You were the one that asked if I intended to stick around, Mister Reese—"

"Maybe I was just making conversation," The stranger quipped, one corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been a grin, despite the fact that it never quite made itself evident in his eyes. That very fact had Piper acknowledging the faintest hints of curiosity, in spite of herself, though she did what she could to avoid letting that show upon her features. Even in the sparse few moments she had spent alone with this man, she could tell he was remarkably adept at reading people and situations, no matter how they might attempt to keep their inner thoughts concealed. And she was absolutely determined to avoid becoming an easy mark for the man who still remained in his seat near the bedside table even after her completion of the task of tending to his injury, a soft sigh escaping as she regarded him for one final moment of silence before deciding to speak once again.

"Okay. Let's say, for argument's sake, that I believe you," She began, amusement apparent in her tone, though she only managed the faintest of smiles in response, before going on, "If you really didn't care about my own decision, I doubt you would be trying so hard to divert my attention from your previous question."

"You're good."

"I kind of have to be. I'm a lawyer, remember?"

"So, you read people for a living."

"Something like that."

"I get the impression that it's not that simple," Reese pressed, something in the intensity of his gaze causing Piper to freeze in place, her footsteps halting as she paused in the act of heading back towards him so that she could obtain a clearer glance at his features. For a moment, she simply remained still, hazel eyes searching the features of her companion while he did the same to her. But of course almost as soon as Piper came to recognize the familiar burning of the flush that took over her cheeks in response to such a realization, the moment was broken, her own attention drifting to an as yet unseen stain the color of coffee on the hotel room carpeting while her companion rose to his full height, and made a show of stretching stiff muscles before speaking once more.

"And you're not going to tell me if I'm right or not."

"How very perceptive of you," Piper deadpanned, tempering the potential harshness of her reply with a soft smile, and finding herself pleased to note that her remark appeared to have done nothing save for causing one corner of Reese's mouth to twitch, while a light scoff of amusement escaped in the same motion, "I get the feeling you appreciate a challenge."

"Am I that easy to peg?"

"No comment."

Once again, her reply was met with that enigmatic half-twitch of the mouth from Reese, the awareness that had she been less diligent in her observation of his reactions, she would have missed it entirely never quite leaving her, even as she suppressed a grin of her own, and set to the task of moving towards the table to tidy up the stray bits of supplies she had used to tend to her companion's injured palm. Once she had dumped them in the small waste basket situated beneath the table, she stooped to pick the device up, fully intending to dispose of the evidence of their presence in a more permanent manner as soon as she was able. But before she could do so, she found herself rather abruptly halted by the sensation of her companion's hand moving to cover her own, her brow furrowing as she met his gaze once again, and fought against the slight jolt of instinctive apprehension that swept through her smaller frame while the skin of his palm brushed against her own.

"Let me."

"Last I checked, you weren't brought on to be part of a cleanup crew."

"Who says I can't help out, regardless?"

"No one," Piper acknowledged, one brow cocked in obvious curiosity over the man's motives, as she tilted her head back to meet his nearly impassive gaze first-hand. Yet again, she was forced to acknowledge the distinct advantage he held over her in height, amongst countless other things that she could only suspect, without any hope of receiving confirmation in the near future. And yet, even in the face of that knowledge, Piper could not entirely suppress the instinctive feeling that she could trust this man, perhaps even with her life—

If that made her a fool, she supposed she would happily accept the consequences at a later date.

Oddly steeled by such a thought, Piper relinquished the waste basket, and took a step back from Reese's larger frame, her eyes never ceasing in their observation of his movements, despite how she knew, somehow, that too much intrusiveness would not be welcomed at all. It was no secret that this man was every bit as elusive as Harold, though the two went about achieving that quality in decisively different ways. And no matter how she might have wished that their circumstances would allow for something different, Piper forced herself to simply accept them as they were, another soft sigh escaping from between parted lips before she turned on a heel and prepared to head towards the hotel room's door.

"You aren't—you aren't coming with us?" Reese asked her, clearing his throat around words that were clearly every bit as unexpected to him as they were to their intended recipient, though to Piper's credit, she did not allow her disappointment over being instructed to remain behind once again to show upon her features. In truth, she highly doubted her relevance to this entire charade, as her uncle seemed bound and determined, at least at the current juncture, to keep her at arm's length from the heart of the operation as much as he could. But no matter her own doubts, Piper forced herself to manage a simple shake of the head, for Reese's benefit, before her attention was once again diverted to Harold's renewed presence from the room neighboring the one she currently occupied.

"Miss Beauchamp has another task assigned to her for the day," He began, leveling a significant glance Piper's way that did not go unnoticed, by either its intended recipient, or Reese, though neither of them acknowledged it in any way, "If you'll follow me, Mister Reese, I think it best we get started right away."

As both men seemed content to depart without another word, Piper found herself forced to watch in silence as first Harold, and then Reese himself made to disappear through the door, her lips turning into a slight frown no matter how she tried to avoid it. But, just as she was prepared to turn back towards the closet to get her long-forgotten purse, she found herself once again freezing in place, her gaze flicking back towards the door as she realized Reese had paused before departing completely, his expression curious, to say the least, as he spoke to her with one hand lingering idly upon the doorframe.

"Thank you, again. For—this," He stated, lifting the hand Piper had tended to just moments before by way of explanation, and managing what might have been the first complete smile she had seen since they met.

"You—yeah. You're welcome," She replied, her teeth coming out to worry at her lower lip almost immediately following her hastily stammered reply, while she was simultaneously forced to reconcile Reese's subsequent departure with the sudden realization that the smile he had given her had come very close to rendering her speechless.

…

Some hours later, Piper found herself once again seated at the dining table in her father's old loft, a glass of wine resting on the mahogany surface while she thumbed through an old photo album as absently as though it had been the daily newspaper she found on the front step that morning. It would have been a lie to say that her heart was fully dedicated to the task she was currently engaged in, her thoughts instead seeming to remain fixed upon the encounter that took place in the hotel room earlier that day. But no matter the direction of her wayward thoughts, she was all but determined to avoid taking too close a look at them at the present moment, her hand reaching absently for the glass of wine so that she could take a few conciliatory sips before attempting to direct her focus towards the photo album once again.

The photograph in question at this particular juncture had been taken on a family vacation to Nantucket, perhaps a few years prior to the divorce, and Piper was stunned to see that, on this side of things, it was remarkably simple to pick up on the distance between her parents from one simple picture. Even though she and Will had been crammed between them just prior to whatever hapless stranger their father had snagged took the photo with their mother's phone, it was no secret that the smile her mother wore was a brittle one, just as her father's posture was rather stiff in spite of the arm he had curled around Will's shoulders.

How could she have missed something so painfully obvious that it was practically tattooed across their faces from the very beginning?

Frowning at the strange sensation of something not all that far from guilt that prickled at her conscience in response to the thought, Piper leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs at the knees while continuing to nurse the wine in her glass. Obviously, she had not been blind to how things had deteriorated not long after that fateful trip, just as she was not ignorant to her father's penchant for spending more and more time at the office, and consequently away from their home, as well. But even that could not entirely stop her from wondering what things might have been like had she caught on to the dissolution of her parents' marriage sooner, rather than later…

She was not so foolish to think she could have single-handedly saved them, but Piper still found herself wondering if things would have ended up like they did if her parents had possessed a fighting chance at staying together.

A reluctant sigh escaped her lips in response to the thought, despite her earnest desire to avoid it, the fingers of one hand coming up to tug through her hair, while the other set to the task of bringing the glass of wine to her lips to down the rest of the beverage in one go. If she were to be honest with herself, she had not wanted to venture down this particular path at all, though she supposed that going through old photo albums might have been a poor way to prevent such a thing from happening in the first place. But when she considered exactly where her thoughts may have taken her instead, given her preoccupation with what had transpired in the hotel room earlier that afternoon, Piper was also unable to find herself completely at fault for diverting her thoughts, even if the course they had taken was not overtly pleasant.

For the moment, it appeared that she was caught between two equally tenuous lines of thought, and for the life of her, Piper could not discern which would be less damaging to travel down, in the end—something that troubled her far more than she cared to admit, and thus prompted her to push back from the table and stand, her feet making soft sounds against the hardwood flooring as she maneuvered her way back to the kitchen to refill her glass with more wine.

With that task accomplished, Piper chose at the last possible moment to abandon her look through the photo album she had lifted from one of the countless boxes that remained scattered about the loft waiting to be sifted through in favor of moving towards the wraparound sofa in the den. Although some small part of her knew that it would be a long shot, she had suddenly determined to attempt distracting herself by an altogether different means, entirely, her torso curving forward so that she could reach for the remote resting upon the coffee table, and switch the wall-mounted flatscreen on for a hapless perusal of available shows.

If nothing else, she hoped she might be able to use the television as a sort of mindless distraction that would not result in any feeling at all, making it a far sight better than what she had been engaged in up until this very moment…

…

(Reno, Nevada 2009)

"Your documents, Miss—Parker. I trust everything is as you requested?"

"Of course," Piper affirmed, pursing her lips as she glanced at the papers in question, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second, before she was scrambling to rearrange her features into an expression that would indicate she had expected this new development all along, "My source told me you would provide ample resources, and it appears they—they weren't far off the mark."

"I take it you know what I will expect in return?" The man propositioned, a suggestive waggle of the brows causing Piper's stomach to turn as she stowed the documents in question inside the messenger bag she carried at her side, and did what she could to maintain as neutral an expression as was possible, given current circumstances.

"I—I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I expect payment, of course! I don't do this sort of work for free, you know!"

"I was under the impression that payment was already arranged," Piper countered, her brow furrowing as she realized the middle-aged man was eyeing her with a look that was altogether unlike that of a businessman to his patron, "My—source—seemed to think the wire transfer had already occurred."

"Your source was a bit lax in their information, my dear. By my accounts, payment is only partially received."

"What exactly is it you believe you are owed?"

"Why don't we talk about that over a drink?" The man proposed, his expression leaving no doubt in Piper's mind as to his intentions, though he had not bothered giving voice to any of them as yet, "That can't hurt anything, can it?"

"I'm not interested in a drink. I—I need to go—"

"Not just yet, I don't think. Unless you want me to make you give those documents back."

"No. No, I—I don't," Piper stammered, managing a tentative step back as she realized her companion had sidled just a bit closer to her, and flinching when she realized her progress had been halted by the pressure of the man's hand coming to curl about her wrist, "Please—let me go."

"I don't think so."

"I think the lady told you to let her go," A new voice repeated, the sound somehow giving Piper the wherewithal to tug her wrist away from the forger's grasp, before she found herself risking a glance at her would-be rescuer, and sent a silent prayer heavenward that he had arrived when he did.

Whether or not it was wise to place her trust in a complete stranger, Piper would have been a liar to pretend that she was not grateful for the man's arrival, as well as for his significant advantage over her former adversary in height and build…

…


	6. First Assignment

(Reno, Nevada 2009)

"You didn't have to do that," Piper remarked, eyeing her would-be savior warily, despite the fact that it had taken hardly any effort at all for the man to persuade her former companion to depart without collecting what he so clearly felt he was owed, "I could have—I could have handled it on my own."

"Oh really? Because from where I'm standing, it didn't really look all that promising."

"Thanks for that."

"Any time," The man quipped, chuckling a bit, and reaching a hand out to grab at Piper's wrist as she made to turn and walk away, "Hey, easy, killer! It was a joke!"

"Very funny," Piper retorted, somehow managing to extricate her wrist from the man's hold, in spite of how her heart seemed to have lodged somewhere in her throat in response to the unexpected touch, "But I really can manage on my own, now."

"Off so soon, then?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I think you might be better served if you stay," The man suggested, eyeing Piper with a look that was more than a little unsettling, before leaning forward across the table that rested between them, and pointing idly at the messenger bag that she clutched tightly to her chest, "And I think we can make as much use of those documents together as you could have on your own."

"How do you know what they pertain to? They might not have anything to do with me at all."

"I think you and I both know that they do."

"Were you watching me for very long, then?" Piper inquired, aware of the brittle nature of her tone, and yet finding that she was entirely incapable of bringing herself to care in light of the stranger's self-assured grin. It was true that she owed him her thanks, for stepping in as he had, no matter her lingering mistrust of his own motives in doing so in the first place. But regardless of the very real gratitude that she did possess for his timely intervention, there was something about the manner in which he had persisted in the act of lingering about afterwards that was more than a little unnerving—a sensation that was only increased as an elusive chuckle escaped him before he addressed her once again.

"What matters is that I was watching, my dear. Otherwise you would be in a very different position than the one you are in, now."

"And I do thank you for your assistance. But I fail to see why that entitles you to decide anything about what business I was dealing with before you gave it."

"Is a man to be blamed for wanting to make a friend, then?" The stranger pressed, noticing the obvious stiffening in his companion's posture, and yet not permitting that realization to sway him one way or another, "I can help you, Miss—Parker, was it?"

"So, you were eavesdropping as well—"

"For long enough to realize you would be well suited for an endeavor I've been working at for quite some time, yes."

"And I'm not interested," Piper scoffed, pushing away from the table, and preparing to head for the door, only to find her progress halted by the loud scraping of the man's own chair as he moved to follow, his right hand clutching at something that she could not yet see, while his left reached for her wrist before she could recoil.

"I think you're going to change your mind," The man proclaimed, barely even flinching when Piper almost immediately wrenched her wrist away from his grasp, while simultaneously extending his other hand, palm-up, to offer her the small business card concealed therein, "And when you do, I think you're going to want to have this on hand so you can give me a call."

Pushing the card into Piper's hand, the man managed one final nod and enigmatic grin for her benefit before he was turning and heading towards the door, himself, the soft tinkling of the bell above the frame fading away rather quickly in the midst of the sounds of chatter coming from other patrons. For a moment, Piper simply remained where she was, standing with the card in hand, staring at the door as though she truly believed if she looked long enough, the man would come back through and explain himself satisfactorily. But before she could stand rooted to the spot for much longer, the sound of a raucous cheer coming from one end of the bar in response to whatever sporting event was playing on the television rather effectively startled her out of her wayward musings, her lips pursing into a frown as she secured her messenger bag to her shoulder and began to head for the door.

Though she had not yet summoned the wherewithal to glance at the small card he had given her, Piper would have been a fool to pretend she was not readily aware of its presence, particularly as the corners had begun to poke against the soft skin of her palm…

…

(New York, September 2011)

The shrill ringing of her cell phone woke Piper from a deep sleep, her eyes squinting against the harsh glare of the sunlight as it streamed through the open window and onto her bed. For a moment, she remained motionless, opting for attempting to still the pounding in her head before deciding to move. But of course almost as soon as she registered the small ping her phone gave to indicate the call had been forwarded to voicemail, it had started to ring once more, the sound eliciting a groan as she pushed back the blankets that had been covering her sleeping frame, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed before reaching for the device and bringing it to her ear at once.

"Hello?"

"Ah, you're awake. Good," Harold's voice echoed in Piper's ear, the slight relief that seemed apparent in his tone causing one of her brows to quirk as she situated herself upon the mattress with both legs crossed beneath her while waiting for him to go on, "I wondered if you might be available to meet for an early lunch. There are some things I feel we should discuss, sooner rather than later, if possible."

"Such as what on earth I'm supposed to be doing in all this?" Piper suggested, flinching at the hard nature of her words, and praying with all she had that her uncle would simply chalk it up to sleepiness, and not an inherent desire to be rude, "I—I'm sorry, Uncle Harold, I just—"

"You have more questions than you are quite sure what to do with?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Perhaps I can endeavor to provide you some answers, then? That is, if you're available."

"Of course."

"Then eleven at the Lyric Diner wouldn't be too much trouble?" Harold inquired, the sharp squealing of breaks that reached Piper's ears seeming to indicate that he was already en route somewhere, despite her lack of knowledge as to exactly where that location might be, "If you have another preference, you're more than welcome to mention it—"

"No. No, the diner sounds just fine," Piper ensured, stifling a groan as the act of twisting at the waist in an attempt to stretch out stiff muscles brought about several pops and cracks from her lower spine, "I'll see you then."

"Likewise. And Piper?"

"Yes?"

"I know you must think I am being deliberate in keeping things from you," Harold began, something in the tone of his voice bringing Piper pause as she had been preparing to scoot to the edge of the bed and start getting ready for the day ahead, but now found herself rooted to the same spot with her free hand placed palm-flat upon the covers, "But I do hope you realize it is not because I do not trust you. I am simply doing what I can to—keep you safe."

"Safe from what?"

Almost as soon as she had asked the question, Piper could have predicted her uncle's reply, though that did not spare her from feeling at least some modicum of disappointment in it, regardless. But no matter her own feelings on the matter, she did her best to mask them, her attention once again shifting to the call at hand just as she realized that Harold's reply would hardly be likely to be forthcoming until he had the opportunity to see her face to face.

"From something that you may wish to have never heard of, if things go wrong."

Given what she could remember about her uncle, both through her own personal experiences with the man, and her father's former recollections, Piper supposed she should not have been surprised when any sort of direct question on her part was met with nothing more than evasion on his…

…

"Is this a favorite place of yours, then?" Piper asked, one brow quirked in honest curiosity as she regarded her uncle over the rim of her coffee mug, a suppressed smile toying at the edges of her lips as she waited for his reply.

"Of sorts. Though if that is one of your questions for me, I have to confess to some disappointment."

"What sort of questions did you expect me to ask?"

"Something a bit closer to what we've been about the past few days, for starters," Harold replied, his expression betraying his slight amusement over Piper's opening inquiry, while he stirred at his tea with the spoon held lightly in his right hand, "Or was I mistaken that your curiosity has been satisfied?"

"You aren't mistaken. I just—I'm not entirely sure where to start."

"Why don't we try for the beginning?"

"From the beginning," Piper repeated, wetting her lips with her tongue before managing a sip of her coffee, and doing what she could to conceal a wince as the scalding liquid burned against her mouth, "Would you judge me too harshly if I said I really didn't have a clue where that even was?"

"Not at all. But I would encourage you to begin with whatever first comes into your mind. I find the first questions are often the most honest."

Managing a nod to show her agreement as words had temporarily failed her, Piper made the attempt at corralling her wayward thoughts into some semblance of order so that she could begin to gain further insight into something she doubted she would ever fully understand. It was true that if she procrastinated for too long, she would either lose her nerve, or her uncle would decide not to be as forthcoming as he had promised, after all. And so, in spite of her lingering uncertainty, Piper forced herself to set the coffee cup back in its place upon the table, before her eyes met Harold's head-on, and she swallowed before moving to begin.

"You said I was never meant to be kept in the dark—"

"I did."

"Why did my father never tell me of this—what the two of you were doing—before?"

"Likely because he was uncertain of how you would react," Harold explained, extending a hand to stall Piper's ensuing reply for just long enough so that he could finish the explanation he had in mind as best he could, "Or, more specifically, he was uncertain how your mother would react."

"My mother? What on earth would she have to do with all of it?"

"Quite a bit, if you were concerned. I doubt you can have missed how protective she was where you were concerned."

"Yes, but she was always so disinterested in what Dad was doing," Piper persisted, brow furrowing as she took in Harold's skeptically raised brow, and pursed her lips for a moment before attempting to elaborate further, "I always thought that was a big reason behind the divorce."

"Was that what your father told you?"

"It was."

"Then I suppose it doesn't surprise me that he only gave you half the story."

"What part am I missing, then?"

"The part involving his own decision to keep her in the dark," Harold clarified, aware of Piper's obviously startled expression, and yet choosing to press on, regardless, "I suppose I am not surprised he left that bit out."

"But why would he want me to know, if he didn't trust her?" Piper asked, leaning forward until both elbows came to rest upon the table between them, and regarding her uncle with some care while he replied.

"Unfortunately, Piper, that is not one of the questions I possess the answer to."

Only able to manage a faint nod at the moment, while the words that now hovered in the air between them sank in, Piper lifted the cup of coffee placed immediately before her to her lips once more, and found that she was able to take a sip, now, without scalding her tongue in the process. For a moment, she focused upon doing exactly that, the rejuvenating liquid warming her veins, and providing her with some form of steadying reassurance in light of the apparent discrepancy that had just been revealed. Of course, she was not so foolish to believe that either of her parents would have confided in her about the full nature of her troubles, no matter the fact that she was more than old enough to face them at the time when it had all started to fall apart. But regardless of her own personal feelings on the matter, she was also very much aware of the fact that if she persisted in this current line of questioning, she was only likely to turn up more uncertain replies, her shoulders squaring just a bit before she was clearing her throat and changing the subject as smoothly as she could.

"Can you answer the question pertaining to what on earth my role is in all of this, then?"

"Inasmuch as it is preceded by the admission that such a role will likely be an evolving one, yes," Harold confirmed, watching Piper's reaction to what he said as carefully as he dared, and noting with some surprise that she had barely flinched, in spite of the flash of something not that far from disappointment that flickered in her eyes, "I had hoped to enlist you as a sort of auxiliary companion to Mister Reese, for starters."

"Does he know of this? The man doesn't exactly strike me as someone who makes a habit of working on a team."

"Perhaps he hasn't in the recent past, but I highly doubt he is incapable of doing so when the situation requires it."

"That isn't exactly an encouraging answer, Uncle Harold."

"It is the best I can give you, until things progress."

"That seems—fair enough," Piper conceded, using one fingernail to pick at a chip in the lacquer that covered the table, and consequently granting herself enough time to resettle her expression into something a bit less dubious than what she truly felt was warranted, "But if he's already out there, working on something, and I'm still here—"

"You feel you may miss out on achieving a purpose at all?"

"Well that's one way of putting it," The young woman chuckled, managing a half-hearted shrug that she supposed must have been intended as a confession to what her uncle had proposed, and finding that Harold appeared to take the gesture as it was meant, despite her apparent inability to put her true thoughts into adequate words. It would have been a lie to pretend that she did not appreciate his apparent ability to see beyond her apprehension, and realize what she truly meant, whether she could fully express it or not. And half in an attempt at making sure Harold saw her gratitude for that very fact, Piper found herself reaching across the table before she could stop it, her hand coming to rest lightly upon her uncle's, in spite of the fact that the gesture caused him to flinch just a bit, before relaxing, albeit with a furrowed brow.

"I do trust you, Uncle Harold. I do. I'm just a bit—impatient, I suppose."

"If you weren't, I don't think I could believe it," Harold assured, blue eyes glancing down at where Piper's hand rested atop his own, while the faintest hints of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, "It does some good to see that hasn't changed, at least."

"Did you really think it would?"

"I had rather hoped not."

"Have I really changed so much, though?" Piper questioned, catching on to her uncle's small smile, and choosing to milk it for all that it was worth in spite of the fact that she knew she risked diverting them from her primary objective in the process. Truth be told, there was something to be said for the familiarity of the situation she found herself in, now, even though she had yet to earn a full laugh from her uncle, as she had been able to do countless times before she had been sent away.

And if the look that passed over her uncle's features were any indication at all, he had just come to the exact same realization…

"Not so much, no," He finally replied, lifting his eyes to rest upon Piper's features, and noting that she appeared to be managing a faint smile of her own, while amusement made itself apparent in her own hazel eyes as she pulled her hand away from his own, and resumed her position half-leaning against the back of the booth they occupied, "Though you do seem a bit—a bit more guarded than you were before."

"Isn't that a natural side effect of aging?"

"Just as it is a side effect of experience."

"I suppose it is, yes."

"And this experience—is it something you think you will ever wish to divulge?"

"I thought I was the one that was supposed to be asking you all of the questions," Piper deadpanned, an amused and resigned scoff escaping before she could put a stop to it as she shifted just a bit on the seat of the booth she occupied, so that her shoulders could rest more securely upon the barrier at her back, "You seem to have turned the tables on me."

"Did you ever truly doubt that I would? All relationships are based on give and take, Piper," Harold cautioned, tempering the potential for offense that was so inherent in what he said with a simple lift of one hand, as though seeking to forestall any attempt at protest with the gesture before going on, "You must understand, I only wish to know as much as you would tell about your time away in an effort to better grasp how to accommodate your return."

"I'm hardly a soldier returning from war, Uncle Harold. You don't have to shield me."

"And what if I want to? I'm not so foolish as to think your time on your own was easy."

"But it was not half as hard as what anyone else may have experienced," Piper protested, flinching against the sudden sharpness of her tone, and frowning as she realized that it have everything to do with the unwanted resurgence of memories, particularly as it pertained to her initiation to the world of fending for herself, "I'm sorry, I just—I feel terrible complaining about a temporary inconvenience when so many have it so much worse."

"Just because someone may have it worse hardly minimizes the toll your own experiences may have taken on you."

Unable to do anything other than nod, Piper fixed her eyes upon the coffee cup in front of her, if for no other reason than to give herself a moment to compose her emotions more effectively. In truth, she had not expected it to be so overwhelming to face the prospect of rehashing her past, such as it was, particularly as some small part of her had almost wanted to find someone to confide in at some point down the line. But now, faced with the imminent discussion of her own actions over the last years, it was as though a wad of cotton had suddenly wedged its way inside her throat, cutting off all hope of honest conversation, the stinging sensation of what could have only been tears pricking at her eyes causing Piper to duck her head and bring one hand up to shield her features for just a moment before she finally managed to summon the wherewithal to speak.

"So—an auxiliary companion," She began, doing her best to change the subject by attempting an imitation of her uncle's sometimes lofty manner of speaking, and finding herself pleased to note that the act had Harold's mouth twitching once more in response, "When do I start?"

"As a matter of fact, I had hoped you might start tonight," Harold stated, taking in Piper's bemused expression, and yet still finding himself capable of keeping a relatively neutral expression in place, regardless of his own misgivings over her reaction to what he was preparing to suggest.

"How do you feel about the prospect of a blind date?"

"A what?"

"A blind date," Harold repeated, diverting his attention to the task of extracting a manila folder from the briefcase that had gone as yet unseen on the seat of the booth beside him, and placing the thing upon the table so that he could nudge it gently towards Piper before going on, "Mister Reese has determined that our 'charge', such as she is, has an ex that might provide a bit of a complication to her safety."

"And this—complication—you want me to go on a date with him?"

"Only if you're comfortable with the task."

"Whether I am or not, I could hardly refuse, after demanding to know what you want me to do to help you, could I?"

"I have to confess, a small part of me rather hoped that you would. For your own safety, if nothing else."

"But you said yourself, what we're doing is never going to be what one may call safe," Piper said, one hand coming to rest, palm-flat, upon the file folder as she drew it closer, while she did what she could to force herself to meet her uncle's gaze, head-on, "And I accept those conditions every bit as much now as I did when you first brought them up."

"I suppose I should feel encouraged by that—"

"I would like it very much if you did."

"Well then—I think you have your marching orders?" Harold began, removing his hands from their place on the table before him just as the waitress arrived with their meals, and managing a faint nod by way of thanks as she prepared to depart not long thereafter, before returning his attention to Piper once again, just in time to see her nod of approval, as well.

"Good. I trust you will know how best to prepare yourself after you've read through the file?"

It would have been terribly remiss of him to pretend that he was not just the slightest bit concerned about Piper's involvement, no matter how many times she told him she would never refuse his request…

…


	7. Date Night

(Reno, Nevada 2009)

The woman remained in the shadows as the man she had been observing departed through the door, the soft tinkling of the bell above the frame barely audible when measured against the sounds created by the other patrons scattered about the vicinity. The young woman he had been speaking to still remained, of course, her hand loosely clasping the card he had given her, while she stared after him as though trying to discern if what she had just been part of were even real. She was perfect—new to town, clearly out of her element, at least for the moment, with absolutely no ties to anyone else to hold her back.

Now, all that remained was waiting for her to take the bait presented on the card clutched in her hand, and allow her to learn what she was capable of for herself.

From what little the unseen observer had gathered during the entire affair, it was apparent that her would-be charge was running from something, or someone, and had been required to obtain documents granting her an entirely different identity as a result. Of course, it was no secret that taking a new name was a foreign concept to her—that she would likely stumble just a bit along the way until she grew accustomed to shedding her real self like one would a second skin. But something instinctive seemed to indicate that this particular woman would adapt every bit as easily as her observer had, when given the proper tools, and motivation…

The woman who had now taken on the surname Parker was clearly far more adaptable than she seemed to believe, at the moment, and that made her the perfect mark for what the stranger had in mind, next.

In spite of her certainty that the newcomer would fit her needs almost without room for error, however, the stranger was still very much aware of the need for a back-up, should her initial beliefs prove false, and it was for that very reason that she had begun the task of digging up as much information related to the young woman's background as she could while her associate interacted with her, face to face. A native of New York City, and clearly accustomed to money, the woman had embarked on the flight that brought her to Reno under what was likely another false name. The name 'Olivia Baker' had seemed innocent enough, and in fact, the stranger might have accepted that name as true, but for the fact that no record could be found pertaining to it farther back than a year. And that very fact, when coupled with the almost immediate assumption of a new identity upon her arrival made the young woman in the stranger's sights someone worth watching, at the very least. Of course, there was still the matter of whether or not she would accept the offer that would be given, should she choose to follow up on the material presented in the card she still held tightly within her grasp. But something told the stranger that the young woman would be entirely incapable of refusing once the true nature of the opportunity revealed itself…

All that there was left to do was wait.

Secure in that knowledge, the woman continued to watch as her charge finally begin to move towards the door herself, one hand lifting to close her laptop while the other dropped to grab the bag resting beside her chair. As the young woman disappeared through the door, the stranger finished the task of securing her laptop in the bag that was now slung over one shoulder, the soft scrape of the chair's legs against the scratched wooden floor barely registering as she began to weave around the tables and wait-staff to make her exit as well. A meeting had already been arranged between the stranger, and the man who had served as rescuer for the girl in question at a coffee shop just a few blocks down the road.

There, they would determine the requisite next steps, and continue to lay the plan for successfully ensnaring this 'Miss Parker' for future endeavors.

…

(New York, September 2011)

James Wheeler was not an unattractive man, Piper supposed, having been provided a photograph of the man in question in the file that her uncle had handed her earlier that day, along with a printout of the man's online dating profile, as well as her own. Apparently, she was to play the part of the recent law school graduate to his own position as ADA, or so her profile seemed to suggest. And although some small part of her was a bit reluctant to go forward with this, given that she hardly felt up to the task of anything even remotely resembling a date in the truest sense of the word, Piper knew that if she did not, it may only encourage her uncle to decline to enlist her assistance in the future.

If she knew anything at all, it was that she would not have any particular reason to stay in the city, should she be relieved of the temporary purpose she had been given, and she would be damned if she allowed one moment's hesitation to separate her from what little remained of her former life for good.

Surprisingly steeled by such a thought, Piper managed to push the nagging sense of anxiety she felt over this entire ordeal to the side, her attention shifting to the task of moving to the room she had selected for herself in her father's loft since her arrival in next to no time at all. Half of her belongings were still in their suitcases, or strewn over available surfaces, while she deliberated over how she wanted things to be organized for the foreseeable future. Of course, she knew very well that procrastinating when it came to settling in was hardly a wise idea, but in spite of that awareness, she found that she was hardly interested in rearranging her own things when she had her father's boxes to unpack, along with whatever it was that her uncle appeared to want her to do in regards to one James Wheeler.

Knowing that she would not have time to delve into the boxes without risking tardiness, however, Piper turned her attention to the task of stepping around the obstructions on the floor so that she could reach one of the suitcases situated beside her bed, her fingers setting to the task of rifling through the various folded articles of clothing until they lighted upon the stiff plastic covering that held her fancier outfits in hopes they would not become wrinkled or snagged. In seconds, she had the garment bag lifted from the confines of the suitcase, and spread out upon the bed, her fingers settling to the zipper so she could pull it down and take a look at the outfits safeguarded inside. A half-grin tugged at her lips as she caught sight of a slip of bright red fabric from a dress she had only worn the one time, tucked beneath the more practical blacks and blues of a few other dresses and wraps she had worn too many times to count. And before she could fully bring herself to stop it, she had withdrawn the red dress from the back of the garment bag so that she could use its hanger to secure it over the edge of the door that led from her bedroom to the bathroom beyond, a short laugh escaping as she knew she was tempting fate, but chose to ignore that awareness almost as soon as it arose.

After all, her uncle had never specifically said that she was supposed to be conservative in the dating profile he had created so liberally what could have been only hours ago…

…

Seated at a corner booth in the surprisingly upscale restaurant that her message from the dating site indicated James Wheeler would be meeting her in, Piper used the light hold on the stem of her wine glass to swirl the contents therein as though the sloshing of the liquid against the sides of her glass was the most fascinating thing in the world. Wearing the red dress that ended just above the knee, lipstick to match, and black heels that still pinched just a bit at the toes, she worried that perhaps, given the attire of the other patrons in the establishment, she might have gone overboard. But of course, almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she was forcing it to the side as she caught sight of the man she was intended to meet as he sidled through the open doorway at the front of the restaurant just as an elderly man and his wife were carrying bags of leftovers out.

Abandoning her wine glass, and standing in hopes that it would allow the man to take note of her presence, and join her in the booth, Piper suppressed a faint laugh of amusement as she watched Wheeler's eyes momentarily widen, before he was altering his course, and heading her way. For his part, he appeared to have opted for a simple brown suit, with a white dress shirt underneath. And as he approached, Piper found herself donning a surprisingly easy smile, her hand stretching automatically to meet his own as he closed the distance between them and gave her a smile of his own.

"You must be Olivia," He proposed, holding onto Piper's hand for perhaps just a bit longer than was necessary, before taking a step back and allowing his eyes to travel over her frame in a manner that was unexpectedly chaste, compared to what she was used to, "James Wheeler. Ah—but friends can—can call me Jim."

"And are we? Friends, I mean," Piper countered, somewhat pleased that it took next to no time at all for Wheeler to laugh in response to her remark, and that it also appeared to have served as some sort of unspoken cue for both of them to take their seats across from one another in the booth. Not long after, the waiter that had poured her wine reappeared, setting a matching glass in front of her companion, and pouring more of the same inside. And in spite of the fact that she hardly could have anticipated it, Piper found herself more than just a little pleased to realize that Wheeler was taking a conciliatory sip of that wine before leaning back against the booth, a grin teasing at the corner of his mouth before he replied.

"I hope so. Our line of work tends to make that sort of thing a rare commodity."

"That it does. Though sometimes, I think that might actually work in our favor."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, with as much of the darker aspects we see in terms of humanity, I can't exactly pretend to subscribe to the theory that most people are inherently good."

"And yet here you are, subscribing to the phenomena of online dating," Wheeler stated, regarding his companion with an expression that was almost skeptical, in spite of the genuine laugh that he allowed to break free in response to her own raised brow, "For all you know, I could be a serial killer."

"Or I could be."

"I think I'll take my chances."

"That could be a risky move," Piper deadpanned, pausing for just long enough to manage another sip of her wine, and deciding on a whim to keep the running joke going for just a bit longer, if for no other reason than to see if her suspicion about his character was correct, "But you've got one thing working in your favor on the getting me not to make you another victim count."

"Oh? And what is that."

"You have remarkable taste in wine."

Allowing her own laughter to join with Wheeler's, Piper permitted herself the liberty of relaxing just a bit after his apparently favorable response, her satisfaction at having been correct in the supposition that a man who succumbed so easily to his own amusement was highly unlikely to be a seasoned killer. Of course, she was not entirely blind to the fact that he could simply be a very skilled actor, able to divert suspicion away from his own person through a carefully crafted faux personality. But something about the way that the man seated across from her presented himself seemed utterly contradictory to that potential outcome, the sort of easy camaraderie that he put forth completely at odds with the idea of his being any sort of threat at all.

In all honesty, she was a true believer in the idea that someone who had it in them to end another human life would look fairer, and feel fouler, and so she allowed herself to simply divert her attention to getting to know the man, instead, if for no other reason than to gather more conclusive proof that he was not the threat that Reese suspected he was, after all.

"I'm glad someone thinks so," Wheeler finally replied, lifting his own glass in what was clearly meant to be a toast, before taking another sip, and resting his other hand, palm-flat, upon the table in front of him, "I wonder if you'll still think so highly of my tastes when you see what I usually get from the menu."

"Try me."

"Stuffed cabbage rolls, and cucumber salad."

"Any chance you have some German blood running through your veins?"

"Remotely. My great great grandmother was from Berlin. How'd you guess?

"My great grandfather came over from Munich," Piper supplied, silently pleased that Harold had gone into as much painstaking detail as he had when creating her falsified background, though all that gave evidence to that very fact was the slight smile that tugged at one corner of her mouth before she went on, "So I have absolutely no right to judge you for picking foods that remind you of home-cooking."

"Good to know. You get any of the language passed down to you?"

"A bit."

"Then I'm going to have to say I'm jealous. Apparently my own ancestors were a bit more concerned with assimilating to American standards to bother sharing their heritage," Wheeler informed, a look that harbored on regretful passing over his features for a moment before he was shaking himself back to the present, and managing a slight shrug as though to excuse his momentary lapse in mood, "Well—at least they shared their food, huh?"

"I'd say that's a definite advantage. Not so good for maintaining a slim waistline, though."

"Well I don't really think you have much to worry about, there. Ah—I mean—"

"I appreciate the compliment," Piper intervened, aware of the slight flush that had adorned her companion's cheeks, and taking pity on him in his momentary embarrassment in spite of the fact that she, herself, had squirmed just a bit in her seat beneath the weight of the statement as soon as it reached her ears, "And if it makes you feel any better, neither do you. Unless you've got a corset on under that suit."

"Not likely. My son would never let me hear the end of it."

"Henry, right? How old is he?"

"Ten," Wheeler said, his expression seeming to indicate that he was genuinely surprised that she appeared interested in his child, when the majority of other women he had seen in the past acted as though the topic was something they would much rather avoid altogether, "And completely obsessed with baseball."

"Does he get that from you?"

"Oh, not at all. But that doesn't stop me from helping him practice anyway."

"I'm sure he loves it even more just because you try," Piper encouraged, one hand absently straying to her stomach, though she somehow succeeded in keeping her thoughts rather firmly rooted in the here and now, regardless, "Is he—is he staying with you, now?"

"Thursdays through the weekend. I pick him up from his mom's tomorrow, actually," Wheeler replied, obvious excitement coloring his tone, and making Piper smile warmly in response, "Did you—do you have kids? Your profile didn't—didn't say—"

"No. No, I don't have kids. But I can definitely see that you love yours."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. He's a great kid."

"What does he think of your work?" Piper asked, then, once again leaning back against the booth, and allowing her fingertips to trail idly against the stem of her wine glass for a moment before her companion finally replied.

"Truthfully? It's hard to say."

"Does he know what it is you do?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, he definitely does," Wheeler confirmed, his brow furrowing just a bit as he shifted his position just enough to be able to thread the fingers of his hands together on the table before him, "It's just—well, the ex-wife has a bit of a dismal outlook on my career prospects."

"And she's letting that outlook reach your son."

"You could say that. But I didn't bring you here to complain about a failed marriage. That's not exactly a winning topic for a first—a first date."

"Would it make you feel any better if I confessed to having a pretty messed up track record with relationships, too?" Piper inquired, one brow lifting in obvious curiosity as she crossed one leg over the other beneath the table, so that her foot could bob aimlessly in the air while Wheeler managed an almost imperceptible nod in response, "Good. Because I definitely do, trust me."

"See that's just what I don't get, though," Wheeler began, glancing down at his entwined hands for just a moment before glancing back at Piper once again, and finding himself more than a little surprised to realize that she was willingly looking him in the eye the entire time, "Who in their right mind would want to mess up a relationship with someone like you?"

"Someone like me—"

"Yeah. Smart—beautiful—great sense of humor—"

"I've got some negative qualities, too, you know," Piper demurred, a flush rising to her cheeks in spite of her desire to avoid it, though she somehow managed to succeed in maintaining her ability to look Wheeler in the eye, despite the conviction apparent in his kneejerk reply.

"Name one."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Wheeler confirmed, his expression ever so clearly indicating that he doubted Piper could follow through on his challenge, though amusement was also present in equal measure, "Just one, and I'll back down."

"I snore," Piper quipped, one corner of her lips twitching as her companion seemed completely incapable of restraining his laughter in response to her remark, "Seriously! What self-respecting woman would admit to something like that if it wasn't true?"

"None that I know of."

"There you go. And that's just one of the many flaws, for your information. Though I think I need to get to know you better before I disclose any more."

"So you wouldn't say no to a second date, then," Wheeler stated, his expression hesitant, though it grew more confident in response to the almost immediate nod that Piper gave him before finishing off the rest of her wine, while their waiter reappeared to take their orders for their meal.

"I wouldn't say no, Jim," She began, risking a glance at their waiter for the briefest of moments, before she was returning her attention to the man seated across from her, and allowing herself to give him a genuine smile before going on, "In fact, I might even say that I insist on it."

If nothing else, she could perhaps use a second outing with the man to begin to gather information on the woman her uncle and Reese were currently attempting to protect in hopes that she could unearth something useful…

…

The following morning found Piper meandering through the park Harold had selected for their meeting while simultaneously suppressing a yawn, one hand moving to tug through her windblown hair, while the other clutched a Styrofoam cup of coffee as though it were a lifeline. As yet, she had not been able to locate her uncle, though she knew that it was entirely likely that he was watching from afar, to discern whether or not she had been followed before making an appearance himself. It was a good tactic, she supposed, if not a little paranoid, and she would have been a liar to pretend that she was not at least a little bit curious over what on earth had happened to him to make that sort of hypervigilance a necessity to begin with. But before she could fully consider the implications of that particular reality, Piper found herself startled back to the present by the sudden sensation of a hand coming to rest upon her shoulder, her entire body tensing while a vaguely familiar voice reached her ears.

"Late night?"

"Jesus!" She exclaimed, instinct prompting her to wrench away from the unexpected touch, despite the fact that she knew its owner was no real threat at all, "Way to give a girl a heart attack!"

"You should pay better attention to your surroundings," Reese countered, both hands slipping inside jacket pockets while he fell into step beside Piper with unflinching ease, "Anyone can sneak up on you if you're lost in your own thoughts."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time I'm meeting Hannibal Lecter in the park."

"Please do. I'm not sure I'd stand a chance against someone like that."

"Something tells me that you could," Piper replied, risking a glance at her companion, and lifting a brow as she realized he appeared to be completely unfazed by her remark, "What? Doubting your skills already?"

"Maybe I'm more interested to hear how your date went last night."

"Well enough. I don't think he's your guy."

"Oh? One date told you that?" Reese questioned, clearly skeptical even in spite of the fact that Piper's expression had stiffened just a bit in response to his apparent doubt.

"As a matter of fact, it did. He's hardly the sort that seems likely to harbor that kind of a grudge."

"How do you figure?"

"Because I talked to him," Piper remarked, coming to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, and folding both arms across her chest, despite the fact that the act earned her a rather forceful huff from a woman who had been walking behind them, and was now forced to divert her path in order to get around, "A man who intended to harm his ex-girlfriend would not spend the majority of the evening talking about his son."

"Or he happens to be skilled at putting on a good show—"

"And maybe he's just a good guy, who hit a rough patch," Piper disagreed, regarding Reese with an expression that was almost indignant, despite the fact that her remark appeared to have little to no effect on his opinion as a whole, "Look, I know you're not inclined to trust people. I get it. Neither am I. But 'psycho stalker' is not the vibe I'm getting from this guy."

"What vibe are you getting from this guy?"

"Yes, Miss Beauchamp—I would be very interested in hearing the answer to that question, myself."

Turning to face the source of the added voice to their current conversation, Piper regarded her uncle for a moment in silence, before she was turning to fall into step beside Reese once more as the three of them moved further down the path towards a nearby park bench. In truth, she did not entirely know how best to explain her seeming certainty that James Wheeler was not the individual they needed to be focused upon when it came to determining the threat against the woman they were trying to protect. But regardless of her own potentially unfounded supposition, she was determined to attempt to convince Harold, at least, that she was not misguided—not entirely—

If that determination made her look like a fool to the man that stood beside him, then so be it.

"He seems like a genuinely good guy, past relationships aside," She proposed, aware of the doubtful expressions that had taken over both of her companions' features, and yet choosing to press her case, regardless, "He never even mentioned an ex, aside from the mother of his kid."

"That could have been a cover, Miss Beauchamp," Harold suggested, noting how Piper almost immediately opened her mouth to protest, and holding out a hand to waylay that argument so that he could make an attempt to explain his reasoning, "People generally want to impress their counterparts on a first date."

"And I've been with a few guys that can't wait to start the litany of how all their exes did them wrong. This guy? He isn't that."

"You're certain?"

"I am."

"Well it may be prudent to keep an eye on your presumed white knight, regardless," Harold began, pausing for just long enough to manage a glance at both Reese and Piper as they moved forward on either side of his own halting steps, and noting almost immediately that Piper's stance had relaxed in response to his lack of vehement protest against her claims, while Reese appeared to have tensed just a bit in contrast, "Do you think you can secure a second date?"

"Already have," Piper replied, suppressing a grin in response to the mild surprise that made itself so apparent upon her uncle's features, and lifting a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair that the wind had blown loose back behind her ear before going on, "So what are we going to do in the meantime as far as the lady of the hour is concerned?"

"Mister Reese and I have that handled, for now," Harold replied, coming to a stop not long after Piper did, herself, and turning to face her head-on as soon as he noticed the expression that was not so far from open dejection that had taken over her features almost as soon as he had said the words, "And besides, you have another—engagement—set for later on this afternoon."

"I do?"

"Indeed. It seems your impromptu removal of Mister Reese, here, from police custody has sparked a bit of interest in you as well."

"So, I have a date with a cop, now?"

"Not exactly," Harold corrected, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and extracting a small slip of paper to give Piper not long thereafter, "Go to this address. Detective Carter will meet you there at approximately two this afternoon. That is, if that doesn't interfere with your evening plans."

"No. No, it doesn't," Piper assured, lifting a brow in response to her most recent instructions, and glancing down at the address scrawled out upon the paper Harold had just handed her, only to find herself forced to fight back a flinch as she recognized it as the apartment her mother had rented for a time, after her parents had divorced, "I—you're sure this is the right place?"

"It will serve its purpose. You should get going, Miss Beauchamp. I doubt Detective Carter will thank you for being late."

Recognizing the dismissal, such as it was, Piper managed a short nod before she was tucking the scrap of paper inside her own jacket pocket while simultaneously lifting the cup in her left hand to her lips for another sip of coffee. It would have been a lie to pretend that she was not slightly disappointed, particularly as it seemed that Harold was more than content to keep her in the dark as it pertained to the larger details at hand in their 'case', such as it was. But knowing that she would do herself no favors by pressing him for details before he was ready to give them, Piper forced herself to remain silent, her steps carrying her away from the two men she left behind so that she could deposit her empty coffee cup in a nearby trashcan before heading towards her newfound destination.

If nothing else, Piper supposed she could satisfy herself with the knowledge that as soon as she had the chance, she would be doing anything within her power to close the gap in information between herself and her uncle, no matter how difficult he made the task to begin with.

After all, she had never been one to back down from a challenge…

…


	8. Subterfuge

If Piper thought the task of setting foot in her father's old loft was daunting, that was nothing when compared to opening the door to the apartment her mother had been living in for a time after her parents split up, the sharp catch in her breath rather quickly becoming near to overwhelming, such that she was forced to come to a stop with her back leaning against the closed door. She could still remember it like it was yesterday—perching at the kitchen table, while her mother, already halfway to the bottom of a very expensive bottle of chardonnay, engaged in a bitter monologue against her father that nothing seemed able to stop. And although she had been a resigned participant at the time, Piper would have been a liar to pretend that she would not have given anything to hear the familiar cadences of her mother's voice now, her eyes closing against the sudden sting of tears, before she forced herself to move away from the door, and into the center of the apartment after flicking on the light stationed upon a nearby table in the foyer.

Much of the furniture had been left in its original position, she noted, though the majority of the family photos had already been removed, likely as a result of her mother's desire to keep such personal mementos on her person, rather than allowing them to collect dust in an apartment she may never actually return to. And even though Piper would have been the first to admit that she might have felt more comfortable in the space on her own if such things were present, she also could not blame her mother for wanting to keep them on hand, herself.

If it had been her failed marriage—her that had been forced to live on her own, since both her children had chosen to remain with their father, Piper did not know if she could have dealt with it all as resiliently as her mother had, personal mementos intact, or no…

Shaking herself before she could become too distracted by such thoughts, however, Piper forced herself to move into what was once the den, her gaze slipping to the television mounted on the far wall, while her fingertips reached for the remote on the table beside the sofa. She needed noise. Something to help her block out the memories that had come rushing back with a vengeance almost as soon as she entered the apartment, at least until Detective Carter arrived, and presented a different sort of distraction altogether. She had next to no idea exactly what to expect on that score, other than questioning on her involvement in Reese's disappearance from the precinct the night they met. But regardless of the doubts she possessed as it pertained to being able to successfully avert the detective's apparent suspicion, Piper knew that she would be far better served by attempting to appear at ease, rather than allowing her uncertainties to display themselves openly upon her features.

A seasoned NYPD detective would surely be able to recognize if even the slightest detail in her appearance was off-kilter, and Piper would be damned if she risked whatever operation her uncle had in mind as a result of her own jangled nerves.

With such a thought in mind, it was seemed rather simple to settle in to the task of watching whatever program was scrolling across the television screen, the ease inherent in allowing herself to zone out while simultaneously slumping back against the sofa cushions proving a bit more relaxing than Piper might have thought. In truth, the feel of the sofa—the smell of familiarity that was lingering beneath the prevailing scent of a closed up room—all of it was nearly too much for her senses, but for the steady hum of the news reporter's informative gossip echoing about the otherwise deserted room that kept her grounded in the present no matter how fiercely her subconscious seemed to intend to travel back to the past. It was as though some small part of her actually enjoyed the pain that came about as a direct result of just such a thing, though Piper would go to her grave denying that fact with every breath she possessed. But that awareness notwithstanding she still managed to somehow persuade her attention to drift back towards the television, a soft sigh escaping as the news program cut to a commercial break, and she simultaneously turned her thoughts once again to the impending interview with Detective Carter.

She could only hope that, if her time away from the city had taught her anything, it was how to wield a carefully crafted lie that even the most skeptical of persons might believe.

…

"Olivia Beauchamp?" The woman on the threshold inquired, one hand dipping into her jacket pocket to withdraw the badge stowed therein, while a soft smile toyed at the corners of her lips, "Detective Joss Carter. May I come in?"

"Of course. I don't suppose I could interest you in a drink—" Piper replied, smiling faintly in turn as she stepped to the side of the doorway so that the detective could enter her home as offered, "Water, maybe? Or I could put a pot of coffee on—"

"Just water if you have it. Thank you."

"Any time."

"Nice place you have, here," Carter remarked, glancing around the foyer and the den while Piper busied herself with moving into the kitchen to obtain the requested glass of water for both Detective Carter, and herself as well, "Though I'm a bit surprised you don't have many mementos lying around."

"I'm not really the sentimental type, Detective."

"Really? Why'd you become a lawyer, then?"

"Same reason as any other person that does, I suspect," Piper stated, managing a shrug as she took a seat opposite where the detective stood, and gesturing with the hand that was not holding her own water glass to indicate that her guest was welcome to take a seat, herself, before going on, "To at least attempt putting bad people where they belong. I'm not sure being sentimental has anything to do with that."

"No? Because from where I'm standing, I think it has a lot to do with it."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, seems to me a person that was so concerned with putting bad guys away might have a personal experience in the opposite direction," Carter supplied, pausing for just long enough to take a sip of the water Piper had given her, and glancing around the room a second time while attempting to explain her thought a bit more adequately, "I was in the same boat myself, a few years back."

"Really?"

"Sure. Overseas, there were plenty of men that we had to allow to roam free, for the greater good, or so they said. I came back, I wanted to make sure it didn't end up like that over here, too."

"Is that why you became a Detective?" Piper asked, tilting her head to the side as she regarded the woman seated opposite her with an expression that was guarded even in spite of her apparent curiosity. She knew what this was—small-talk as a means of getting her to relax, and potentially give some indication that she knew more about the reasoning behind the detective's presence than she cared to admit. And although some small part of her wanted to ensure that Carter knew she had already come to that conclusion, Piper forced herself to remain silent on the matter, choosing instead to wait for Carter's forthcoming reply to her previous question.

"It's a part of it, yeah."

"And the other part?"

"Honestly? I'm still trying to figure that part out," Joss informed, sharing a faint laugh with her companion, before leaning forward to place the glass of water she had been given upon the surface of the table that stood between them, "Know what else I'm trying to figure out?"

"What's that?"

"I'm trying to figure out if you might know anything about where our mutual friend might've disappeared to after you released him from my custody."

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to disappoint you on that score," Piper stated, watching Carter's expression carefully, and finding herself impressed that Joss did not seem to be moved by her assertion one way or the other, "He declined my assistance, despite my attempts to persuade him otherwise, and left not that long after."

"Did he happen to give you a reason why he didn't want your help?"

"No. Well—other than claiming he didn't need it, anyway."

"Seems a little counter-intuitive, given the list of charges he's got against him," Carter pressed, aware of the infinitesimal tightening at the corner's of Piper's lips that she might have missed, had she not been looking for such a thing to begin with, and choosing to explore that fact as freely as her companion might allow her to, "I assume you already know his prints have been found at several crime scenes."

"I do," Piper confirmed, forcing herself to continue meeting the detective's gaze head-on, despite the fact that the revelation was not, in fact, something she already knew, "But it's not my job to force a client to accept assistance if they're determined they can manage on their own."

"You think he wants to go to prison?"

"I can't think of anyone who wants to go to prison, Detective—"

"Even when they think they deserve to be punished for what they've done?"

Frowning a bit in response to the question, Piper remained silent for a moment in hopes that she would either find herself capable of constructing a suitable reply, or the detective would simply move on to another method of interrogation. In truth, she was more than a little troubled by the idea that the man her uncle had selected to help his cause was perhaps more dangerous than she had initially believed, particularly when that realization was coupled with the potential he might possess for self-destructive tendencies. But before she could become too distracted by the implications behind that troubling realization, Piper found herself brought back to the present once again by the sound of her companion clearing her throat, her teeth coming out to worry at her lower lip for a moment before Joss broke the silence between them once more.

"Before you turned up to take him away, he let me take his prints," She began, shifting on the sofa until her elbows rested upon her knees, and her chin came to rest on one hand, "Which seems to suggest he knew exactly what we'd find when we ran them through the system, and just—didn't care."

"Well if you're expecting any startling insights into his psyche, I've got to tell you—I'm not your girl."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"So, I imagine you're unaware that he's suspected of shaking down some local thugs, and stealing their guns late last night?"

"I—no. I'm definitely not aware of that," Piper assured, fingers fiddling with the rim of her glass as she glanced down at where it rested in her hands, in hopes that she could rearrange her expression into something other than the shock it currently betrayed, "And I don't have a clue what that says about his mental state."

"Well I hope it goes without saying that you're welcome to call if something jogs your memory, later on down the road," Joss suggested, reaching into her pocket once again as she stood from the sofa, and withdrew a small white business card in the same fluid motion, "My card—the best number to reach me is actually on the back since I'm hardly ever at my desk."

Glancing down at the card as she took it from the detective's hand, Piper flipped it over and took note of the tidy handwriting scrawled across the back, her lip quirking into a half-smile before she redirected her attention to the task of escorting the detective to the door. It was clear, even from the brief interaction they had just engaged in, that this woman was not about to stop in her search for Reese, despite the fact that she seemed to have relatively little to go on in terms of finding him as a whole. And although she would have been a liar to pretend that such a thing did not give her more than sufficient reasoning to be apprehensive, Piper did what she could to avoid allowing any of that to show in her expression, instead opting for donning a smile as Carter reached the door, and turned to face her one final time before departing for good.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Beauchamp—"

"Olivia, please."

"Olivia," The detective conceded, managing a smile of her own, before reaching for the doorknob, and hovering on the threshold for a moment to enable her to finish the encounter with the appropriate request for follow up, should Piper think of anything further, "Remember, if you think of anything else, or if you see our friend again—"

"You'll be the first person I call," Piper promised, lifting the card she held in her hand in hopes it would persuade the detective that she intended to put it to use, if given sufficient incentive to do so, "Though I doubt this guy will have much of a reason to seek me out again."

Even knowing that Carter would never admit it if she asked her aloud, Piper could tell just by the look on the woman's face that she seemed hardly inclined to believe the assertion just uttered, the slight lift of an eyebrow as she turned to head towards her car proving to be far more telling than any question she might have raised about the matter in response. Of course, Piper knew that it may have been foolish to insist that she could not see any future interactions between herself, and the man Carter sought, as she had learned from an early age that the easiest way to get caught in a lie was to repeat it with more vehemence than was due…

For now, though, she could at least rest easy in the knowledge that she appeared to have temporarily removed the prospect of any further questioning on Reese and his modus operandi from the agenda, thus giving her more time to focus on both her upcoming 'date' with Wheeler, and her intent to discern more information on her uncle's evasive behavior, as well.

…

"You don't mind, do you? The sudden change in plans, I mean—"

"Not at all! As long as you don't think Henry will have a problem with it."

"He won't," Wheeler assured, managing a faint smile for Piper's benefit, while simultaneously holding the door that led into the main hallway of his apartment complex open so that she could pass through before he did the same, "Confession? He's been badgering about meeting you ever since I got back from our date last night."

"Oh really?" Piper mused, lifting a brow in open inquiry as she entered the lobby of the apartment complex, and turned to wait for her companion to do the same, "Did you talk me up, then?"

"I might have—"

"Wow. Well I'm flattered."

"Good. Because I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance that you'd just be creeped out."

"Creeped out?"

"Yeah—I mean—aren't most women a bit gun-shy when a guy seems a bit too involved, early on?" Jim inquired, watching Piper's reaction as carefully as he dared, without risk of doing what he feared his statement about his son had already done, only to find that she returned his question with nothing more than a seemingly genuine smile before moving to reply.

"Some women might be. I'm not."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Piper confirmed, falling into step beside Jim as he moved toward the elevator, and bumping her shoulder against his arm while they walked in a show of attempted camaraderie before going on, "And for the record, Jim? If Henry is half as good a man as his dad seems to be, you might have yourself a little competition."

Pleased to see that her remark had the desired effect of invoking a laugh from her companion, in spite of the relatively serious nature of their current conversation, Piper followed him inside the elevator, and remained silent as he jammed his thumb against the button that would take them to his apartment. For a moment, her expression clouded, the guilt brought about by the realization that she was leading him on, at least in part almost threatening to overwhelm her almost before she could stop it. But before she could allow herself to travel too much farther down that particular path, and find herself forced to face the consequence result, Piper was jolted out of her internal musings by the sound of the elevator dinging while the doors slid open, a flinch passing through her frame as the sensation of Wheeler's hand taking her own prompted her to look down at where their fingers had begun to twine together almost of their own accord.

"You okay?" He asked, concern taking over his features for a moment as he took in how Piper seemed to have frozen in place, while her eyes fixated upon their hands as though both of them had suddenly sprouted out of thin air, "Is this—too much?"

"No. No, it's not," Piper said, shaking her head as though to rid herself of a sudden fog, and allowing Wheeler to use the hold he had upon her hand to lead her out of the elevator, and toward a door at the opposite end of the hall, "Sorry, I just—I kind of got lost in my own head there."

"It happens—you sure you're good to meet Henry? Because we can—we can always do this another time."

"I'm fine. I promise," Piper stated, somehow finding herself capable of persuading her lips to turn up in a smile, while simultaneously giving Jim's hand what she hoped would be a reassuring squeeze, "Besides, what kind of date would I be if I fell back on my promise to judge which one of you was a better pitcher?"

"You'd still be a pretty good one in my book."

Unable to resist the genuine smile that tugged at her lips to replace the hastily constructed one of mere moments before, Piper allowed her companion to continue to lead her towards the door of his apartment, the sound of laughter, and muted dialogue from what she thought she recognized as a cartoon echoing through the door as they approached. For a moment, he relinquished his hold upon her hand so that he could reach for the key to unlock the door, instead. And although she was loathe to admit it, Piper realized she had almost come to miss the contact, small as it was, despite her knowledge that she should not be succumbing to such a thing to begin with, her brow furrowing once again as she struggled to reconcile her obviously contradictory thoughts, until she realized that her companion had succeeded in unlocking the door, and was now reaching for her hand again with an almost hopeful look apparent in his features as he did so.

"Ready?" He questioned, grinning unabashedly at the renewed connection between them, and finding himself rather pleased to note that Piper was nodding almost immediately in response.

"Absolutely."

Conflicting thoughts aside, Piper was bound and determined to keep her attention on the matter at hand, if for no other reason than to allow herself the necessary focus to complete the job she had been given as best she could.

…

Pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to talk with Henry, even in the face of the fact that she had relatively little to go on as it pertained to experience with kids. Like most his age, he talked a mile a minute, though she soon found that she hardly minded, particularly when she realized that her rapt attention to his every word appeared to have put his father at ease in seconds, flat. And, before she knew it, the boy was reaching for her hand in an attempt at tugging her to her feet, his enthusiasm as apparent to her as the sudden buzzing of her cell phone from the inside of her jeans pocket as he began to steer both her, and his father towards the apartment door.

"Come on! We need to get to the park before it gets dark!"

"Actually, could you—could you give me a second?" Piper countered, gently extracting her hand from Henry's, and turning her gaze towards his father, instead, before attempting to offer an explanation for her sudden reluctance to depart that very second, "I—could I use your restroom?"

"Sure. Third door on the right down that hall."

Turning almost as soon as he said the words, Piper hurried in the direction he had indicated, her hand slipping down to retrieve her phone once she located the bathroom, and pull it from the confines of her pocket. A glance at the screen indicated the source of the buzzing had been a hasty text from Harold, the message apparently so lengthy that she could not read it in its entirety without unlocking the device to read it in full, her jaw dropping as her eyes flitted across the words upon the screen.

Wheeler not the threat. Men coming for him now. Reese en route. Stay put.

"Shit," Piper murmured, shoving the phone back in her pocket, and dragging her free hand through her hair as she leaned against the edge of the nearby countertop, and tried, albeit without success, to come up with a plan. If she were to suddenly refuse to leave the apartment, Wheeler would know something was up, not to mention the fact that she could hardly bear the thought of the disappointment on Henry's face at not being able to go to the park, after all. But if they were to leave, she also knew they would very likely be walking right into the arms of whatever men were coming after Wheeler, himself…

The gun she had strapped to her ankle beneath the generous flare of her jeans notwithstanding, Piper knew that she didn't stand a chance at keeping both Jim, and his son safe if the worst should happen, and that fact alone troubled her more than she dared to admit.

Still, she knew that staying holed away in the bathroom would not do any of them any good, no matter how much she wished that it might, and so Piper forced herself to move back towards the bathroom door, one last, deep breath serving as the final attempt she made to steel her nerves before opening the door, and heading back to the two individuals eagerly awaiting her return.

"Can we go, now?" Henry enthused, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited by the apartment door, baseball cap on his head, and a glove and ball clutched eagerly in both hands. It was clear that he was itching to go—that he had been, in fact, almost as soon as she had arrived. And a look at Jim told her that he seemed every bit as eager to get on with their evening as his son, the adorably expectant look that he wore reminding her a bit of her brother when they had discovered he had bought him a car for his sixteenth birthday…

If she had possessed any resolve to let them both down as it pertained to venturing out to the park, it was gone, now.

"We can if your dad says it's alright," Piper managed, exhaling a shaky breath that she hoped would go unnoticed, and heading towards the apartment door while Wheeler reached for her hand once again. This time, however, the gesture was not as calming as before, every muscle she possessed going taut as they made it through the door, and headed back toward the elevator at the end of the hall. True to form, Henry had begun to chatter away again, this time about how sure he was that he could best his father as a pitcher. But, contrary to when they were within the relative safety of the apartment, this time Piper found she could hardly pay attention, her mind working at a hundred miles a minute until the elevator reached the ground floor, and the resultant sound of the doors sliding open forced her back to the present. In the back of her mind, she was well aware that Jim was eyeing her with just the smallest amount of suspicion, her relative lack of contribution to the current conversation obviously not going unnoticed. But she could not quite bring herself to care about that at the moment, no matter how much she may have wanted to, her gaze snapping around the lobby to discern if they had company, only to find that they appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, alone.

Still on high alert, no matter how deserted their surroundings appeared to be, Piper gently extracted her hand from Jim's so that she could maneuver herself so that she was the first of them to exit the elevator, her posture fortunately falling into some semblance of a casual walk despite the adrenaline zinging through her veins. Something felt off about this entire affair, in spite of the fact that she still could see no outward sign that anything was amiss…

Of course, as soon as she passed the two pillars that rested about halfway from the elevator to the door leading out to the street beyond, she was brought to the abrupt conclusion that her initial suspicion had been correct after all.

Behind the pillar on her immediate left, a balding man held his dark-skinned prisoner at gunpoint, his gaze trained so intently upon the pillar opposite where he stood that he paid Piper's appearance very little attention at all. Following the direction of his gaze to her immediate right, she saw that Harold's text had in fact been correct, as Reese appeared to have a captive of his own held tightly in hand. But before she could make any attempt at discerning just what she was supposed to do to get Wheeler and his son past those pillars without them noticing a thing, Henry was bounding towards her, a smile lighting up his face until he accidentally dropped the baseball clutched in his hand, and it began to roll towards the pillar Reese stood behind with alarming speed.

"I—I'll get it," She began, moving after the ball while simultaneously extending a hand to halt Henry in his tracks, only to find that the object in question had already rolled its way behind the pillar, until Reese shifted to stop it with his foot. Out of the corner of her eye, Piper saw Wheeler already heading past the pillars, his attention seemingly on getting himself to the doors, unlike his son, who was watching Piper as she remained frozen in place, her eyes fixed upon Reese and the man he held with one hand over his mouth. She did not dare say a word with Henry so close, so she did what she could to make it clear in her expression that she was fully prepared to stay behind with him, should it be necessary to deal with the matter at hand.

Perhaps that readiness was reason enough to explain why her heart fell just a bit at the almost imperceptible shake of his head that indicated she should grab the ball and go on with the rest of her evening, as planned.

Determined to avoid calling attention to his presence, though, Piper forced herself to simply grab the ball and straighten her spine to head back towards the door, the faintest of smiles crossing her features as she handed it back to Henry, while the two of them moved to rejoin his father as though nothing had happened. Just as she reached the door, Piper glanced back, her eyes meeting Reese's once again in order to give him one final chance to ask for help. But of course, no such request was forthcoming, the expression that passed over the tall man's features conveying nothing short of an implacable resolve to take care of the problem on his own, and thus forcing a resigned sigh to pass Piper's lips as she managed a faint nod before turning to head through the door herself, as a result

She could only hope that he was as capable of fending for himself as her uncle seemed to believe, otherwise this may very well be his first and final task in Harold's employ.

…

Later that evening, after a surprisingly enjoyable few hours at the park lobbing a baseball back and forth, Piper found herself heading back towards her car where it was parked about a block away from Wheeler's apartment, her hands fiddling with the keys while her gaze flicked almost absently around the surrounding area while she walked. The sun had set a while ago, and the streetlights were buzzing overhead, creating an interesting background for the otherwise quiet solitude of her current locale. And although some small part of her still wondered exactly what had gone down in the lobby of the apartment complex after her own departure, Piper did what she could to keep her attention firmly rooted in the present moment, her gaze drifting to the driver's side door of her car as she approached, and unlocked the door quickly before sliding inside. Shutting the door behind her, she placed the key in the ignition, before turning her attention to the rear-view mirror in an effort to ascertain the status of her admittedly windblown appearance while simultaneously reaching for the dial that would turn on the radio in the same motion. And then she saw it—the shadow in the back seat of her car that indicated she was not alone, and consequently caused her heart to lodge within her chest while the hand that was not frozen against the dial of the car radio dipped down to the weapon holstered at her ankle.

"Easy, Olivia—it's just me—"

"How the hell did you get in here?" Piper demanded, abandoning her grab for her weapon in favor of twisting around until she faced the unanticipated visitor in the back seat, with incredulity etched plainly upon her features, "I locked—the doors were locked!"

"That's never really been much of an obstacle for me in the past," Reese remarked, one corner of his mouth twitching just a bit before his expression returned once again to its usual mask of impassivity, "But testing my own capabilities is not why I'm here."

"Then why are you here?" Piper mused, her eyes roving over Reese's features, despite the fact that she knew, on some level, that her investigation was a futile one, "Why the hell have you decided to give me another heart attack, hmm?"

"Because I need your help. And I think once you realize what it is we have to do, you'll agree."

"Oh really. Why is that?" Piper quipped, aware that her tone was somewhat harsh, and yet not entirely finding it within herself to care, particularly as her heart was still pounding in the aftermath of finding Reese waiting for her in her car. Of course, she would have been lying were she to pretend that she was not relieved he was alright, particularly given the tenuous circumstances she had left him in earlier that very evening. But, regardless of that particular feeling, Piper also could not help but feel a bit miffed that this would count as the second time Reese had caught her unawares, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she regarded him for one more moment in silence before pressing for an answer once again.

"Are you going to answer my question, or should I just start guessing and see how long it takes for me to stumble on the right answer, myself?"

"I need you to take me back to the precinct," Reese informed, aware of Piper's skeptically raised brow, and choosing to ignore it in favor of getting her to see that the matter at hand was much more pressing than her desire to question his motives for appearing in her car to start with, "Unless of course you want to explain to the next cop that pulls you over why you have a body stashed away in your trunk."

Although Piper had opened her mouth almost immediately, both to question the sanity in Reese's statement, and protest against his seemingly glib assessment of their current situation in the same motion, she was soon turning back to the steering wheel so that she could throw the car in reverse and back out of the parking space in order to head off down the road, a sharp exhalation escaping in a rush before she risked lifting her eyes to the rearview mirror once again as she spoke.

"What exactly are we going to do with this hypothetical dead body once we get to the precinct, John?"

"We're going to make it someone else's problem," Reese supplied, leaning back against the seat he occupied, while Piper took the liberty of pressing her right foot against the accelerator just a bit more firmly, her expression stormy, to say the least, at the prospect of what it was that they were about to do.

She was reluctant—that much was painfully obvious between the hard cast to her eyes, and the muscle that jumped every so often in her jaw as she kept her attention firmly fixed upon the road. But the fact that she had decided to start driving, rather than forcing him out of the car as soon as she had the chance proved more than he knew she would ever admit to out loud…

This was not the first time she had been forced to dispose of a body, given her reaction to his statement as a whole, and although Reese knew very well that getting the information out of Piper would be a nearly insurmountable task, he was determined to see it through, no matter how long it took to obtain the truth.

If he knew anything at all, it was that she would not be able to maintain her façade of indifference for long.

…


	9. Reminiscence

"You're quiet," Reese remarked, aware of Piper's almost immediate scoff in response to the assertion, and risking a glance at the small portion of her features he could see in the vehicle's rearview mirror while her eyes remained fixed resolutely on the road ahead while she replied.

"I think the body in my trunk kind of ruined the mood. I wasn't aware that was a situation that warranted idle chit-chat."

"Maybe I'm just concerned for your welfare."

"Says the man who put that dead body in my trunk."

"Stranger things have happened—"

"Have they, though?" Piper mused, one brow quirking in silent inquiry as she risked a glance in the rearview mirror, only to find that Reese was watching her every move, "The way I see it, you don't generally risk getting someone you have a genuine concern for arrested. At least, not where I'm from."

"And where is that?"

"Where I'm from? You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't," Reese replied, settling back against the backseat as though their current situation was the most natural thing in the world, while Piper's hands tightened just a bit on the steering wheel while a muscle jumped sporadically in her jaw. It was obvious that she had not quite mastered the ability to keep emotion out of unpleasant tasks such as this, though whether that fact was the result of lack of experience, or something inherent in her nature was, as yet, unclear. But just prior to his tentative decision to redirect their conversation, Reese found the gesture unnecessary, Piper's reply coming to him softly, but with a certain amount of force behind the words that belied a strong conviction to do whatever was in her power to remain calm, despite the turmoil that was so apparent in her hazel eyes.

"Denver. Born and bred. You?"

"Nowhere important."

"Oh—so this is going to be one of those one-sided inquisitions, then," Piper assumed, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for a split second before they were returning to the road, and her hands had shifted on the steering wheel to navigate the upcoming curve in the pavement, "And I wouldn't exactly call Denver important, in the grand scheme of things."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, I suppose it's a matter of perspective," Reese began, one shoulder managing a light shrug, while blue eyes drifted from their investigation of Piper's expression, and towards the window beside him instead. They were fortunate in that not many pedestrians appeared to be moving about at the moment, as that would make their entry into the parking garage near the precinct less likely to be observed by unwanted eyes. And although it was still abundantly clear that his companion was not at all thrilled about being roped along on this particular task, it was also clear that she, too, had seen the relative desolation of the city's streets, her shoulders relaxing just a bit as Reese returned his attention to her reactions once again, an unreadable expression passing across his features before he broke the silence between them for the third time that day, "Did you enjoy Denver?"

"Seriously? You're really going with the small-talk angle?" Piper scoffed, a laugh escaping in spite of the nature of their current situation as she eased the vehicle to a stop before a red light, and once again allowed her gaze to stray to the rearview mirror, "I think there might be other things that are more important to discuss right now."

"Such as?"

"Such as why we're taking a dead body to a police precinct, for starters."

"Like I said—we're making it someone else's problem."

"And you aren't going to tell me why we're doing that, are you?"

"I'm securing an asset," Reese informed, the curiously detached nature of his tone prompting Piper to lift one brow, though she did not make any attempt at inquiring as to why he spoke that way for the time-being, "This one owes me a favor or two. Just making sure he pays up."

"And I'm involved because—"

"Because it seemed simpler than stealing another car."

"Glad to know I'm convenient," Piper quipped, aware of the soft sound that might have actually been a laugh coming from the back seat, and choosing to ignore it in favor of returning her eyes to the road as the light they were stopped in front of turned green, and she pressed her foot to the accelerator once more, "I'd hate to see what happens, otherwise."

Knowing that the remark had far more bark behind it than bite, Reese opted for remaining silent in lieu of an immediate reply, the only sound that broke that silence being the soft whir of the car's engine, and the sound of tires on pavement. But for the fact that they were transporting a dead body in the trunk, and that Piper had resumed her tight hold upon the steering wheel, it might have been peaceful.

Of course, Reese really ought to have suspected that, with how she so clearly disapproved of her involvement in their current enterprise, Piper would not permit things to remain as they were for long…

"You make a habit of dragging people into things like this, then?" She inquired, something in the almost hesitant cast to the words proving that she was not trying to be antagonistic, in spite of the potentially intrusive nature of the question itself. It was clear she was simply attempting to discern if her role in current events were a matter of convenience only, or if she were truly being used like Reese was about to use Fusco. And in spite of the fact that he was half-tempted to remain silent, particularly as he had at least half a reason to believe that her initial answer to his question about where she was from was a lie, Reese found that he was unable to resist the sudden urge to reply, anyway, one brow lifted in curiosity over her own reaction to his answer while he spoke.

"When I need to. But I think you already knew that."

"Actually, no. I didn't. I don't know a thing about you."

"No more than I know about you," Reese countered, noting the slight twitch at the corner of Piper's mouth, and taking as evidence that she appeared to have acknowledged their situation for what it was—two people, attempting to work together, while still maintaining one another at arm's length, "I get the impression that's exactly how our—boss—wants it."

"Maybe so. Maybe it's better that way," Piper acknowledged, the appearance of the precinct Reese had directed her to causing her lips to purse for just a moment as she navigated the turn that would lead them through to the gate barring the parking structure from the street beyond, "You going to stick around, you think?"

"Are you?"

"What do you think?"

"Since you never bothered to kick me out of the car? Probably."

"That was all it took?"

"For now," Reese confirmed, only waiting for as long as it took for Piper to maneuver the car through the gate, before leaning forward to gesture to a spot at the end of a line of police cruisers, "There's fine."

"Yes, boss—"

The remark earned Piper another brief sound of what might've been a laugh before Reese was sliding out of the back seat of her car, and shutting the door with a snap, leaving her with no choice but to follow suit after cutting the ignition, and exhaling in an attempt at relieving some of the tension that remained between her shoulder blades. Of course, the gesture was futile, as the sight of Reese popping the trunk once again brought her mind back to why they were here. But before her nerves could dampen her resolve to simply get this done, before either one of them ended up getting caught, Piper forced herself to exit the car as well, one hand lingering on the roof of the car as she turned to face Reese, only to find that he had been watching her carefully the entire time.

"What?"

"I can take it from here," He began, clearly sensing the reluctance that was emanating from the young woman's frame, though that evidence of hesitation was rather quickly replaced by a flash of something almost akin to defiance almost as quickly in response to his suggestion. In seconds, she was hovering at his side, hazel eyes almost immediately gluing themselves to the body of the former detective that had been unceremoniously shoved inside her trunk. And although he could tell, almost immediately, that she was not quite as repulsed by the sight as she might have been had it been the first body she had seen up close, Reese was also aware that she was still not so accustomed to the sight that it did not impact her at all, her expression hardening just a bit before she rolled her shoulders as though to ease any tension that rested between them before she spoke.

"Head or feet?"

"Pardon?"

"Head or feet?" Piper repeated, keeping her eyes on the body, as though she might truly believe if she looked away for even a moment, she would lose all the resolve she possessed to get this done, "For carrying him, I mean."

"No preference. Head might be heavier."

"Ever the gentleman."

"I endeavor to be," Reese quipped, watching for a moment as Piper moved towards the side of the trunk where Stills' feet were sandwiched against the interior, her expression unreadable as she risked a breath before reaching down to curl her fingers around his ankles. In the same motion, he looped his arms beneath the dead man's armpits, a glance at his unwitting companion indicating that she was ready to lift the body whenever he gave the signal. But before he could do so, Reese found himself brought to a rather abrupt stop, the sudden sound of Piper's laughter bringing a furrow to his brow as he regarded her for a moment in silence, as though suddenly doubtful of her sanity.

"I'm—I'm sorry," She began, biting her lower lip for just a moment in an attempt at quelling her amusement before it got out of hand, "I'm not—this is just not how I envisioned my evening going."

"You never saw yourself helping a man you barely know stuff a body into a police car? Because I saw it coming from a mile away."

"So, we're making jokes, now?" Piper inquired, her shoulders tensing as she accepted Reese's faint nod as an indication that she was to lift the dead man's ankles as best she could, "Seems—"

"Odd?"

"I was going to say—insane."

"In my experience, questioning your sanity in situations like this very rarely turns out well," Reese informed, bracing his back as he lifted Stills' shoulders out of the trunk, and finding that Piper only stumbled just a bit in response to the realization that the body's weight was no longer supported by anything other than their hold on his frame. Already knowing where Fusco's cruiser was parked, he took the liberty of directing them towards the other end of the structure, a not altogether uncomfortable silence existing between them, until Piper was wetting her lips with her tongue as though she had decided she could stand the quiet no longer.

"You do this often, then?"

"You don't want to know."

"Don't I, though?" The brunette persisted, teeth worrying at her lower lip for a moment over the realization that the weight of the body she aided Reese in carrying was beginning to pull at her shoulders despite the fact that she had taken the lighter end by far, "Seems like dragging a dead body across a parking garage might indicate I was due for an honest answer."

"Are you really from Denver, then?"

"Touché."

Aware that his return inquiry had effectively made Piper aware that he had caught on to her lie about where she was from, Reese once again found himself facing a more taciturn companion, only the occasional scuff of one of their shoes against the concrete, or a honking car horn out on the street breaking the renewed silence that sprang up between them. It was clear just from one look at her face that his partner, such as she was, was not about to disclose her true place of origin, any more than he was prepared to come clean about exactly how many times he had been in a situation exactly like this one. She did not need to know—of that, he was unwaveringly certain, no matter how much she might opt for disagreement over the issue, herself…

No matter her apparently strong constitution, Reese was all but certain that if his would be compatriot knew even a fraction of what he had done, and what had brought him to this point in his life, she would run in the other direction without a backward glance.

Regardless of whether or not that realization troubled him, however, Reese took next to no time at all to force such thoughts to the back of his mind, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand. He was no stranger to the fact that any distraction, even in the face of the relative desertion of the parking garage they currently traversed, would be a disadvantage—something that, if the slight furrow to her brow were any indication, appeared to have crossed his companion's mind, as well. And although he still had every intention of attempting to maneuver her into trusting him that he had possessed since they first set out on this particular task, Reese chose to focus, for the time-being, on getting Stills' body to Fusco's cruiser, knowing that getting more information on the woman that aided him would keep, for now.

…

(Reno, Nevada 2009)

"You're certain she's the one?" The man asked his companion, aware of the slight narrowing of her eyes in response to the question, and yet still finding it within his power to remain unflappable in the face of it, "She seems a bit—skittish, if I'm honest."

"She's perfect. And I thought you knew better than to question my judgment on these matters."

"I'm only looking out for our best interests."

"Something that I have told you I am perfectly capable of doing on my own," The woman assured, her attention straying to the laptop situated on the table between them as she tilted the screen just a bit to ensure unwelcome eyes did not stray over the screen, "Or have I given you reason to doubt me?"

"Not at all."

"Good. I'd hate to think you were starting to doubt your role in all of this, Benjamin—"

"You've made damned sure I don't forget it," The man—'Benjamin'—replied, fixing his companion with a look that gave absolutely no doubt of exactly what he would do to her without hesitation, but for the fact that she was the very reason he was sitting in this café, and not a jail cell, "I know what I need to do."

"Then see that you get it done. I'm sure I don't need to remind you what may happen if you fail."

Gritting his teeth to prevent the harsh reply that he wished rather fiercely could be set free, Ben opted instead for a sip of the coffee that the barista had brought over mere moments before, the scalding warmth of the liquid as it burned its way down his throat diverting at least some of the anger he felt over being so beholden to a woman that was nothing more than a cheap computer geek with far too much information at her fingertips. That access to information was how she had found him, in the first place, holed up in a fleabag motel trying to evade arrest in New Mexico. And although he still did not have the faintest idea regarding what it was about his situation that had caused her to intervene, and thus hold his freedom in the palm of her hands, he would have been a fool to pretend that it was a rather fortunate turn of events even in spite of the fact that he was now beholden to a woman that was far more trouble than she was worth.

"You're trying to find a way out of this, aren't you?" The woman asked him then, moving her laptop to the side, and leaning forward with both elbows placed upon the table while her fingers threaded together, with nails a freshly painted shade of black, "You won't find one. Not until I don't need you anymore."

"And when will that be?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

"Now tell me why I don't believe you."

"Because you have trust issues."

Before Ben even had the chance to react, the woman's hand had snapped forward to latch onto his wrist with a vice-like grip, forcing it down with a thud to the surface of the table between them and her fingernails dug tiny half-crescent furrows in his skin. She didn't even have to say a word for him to know he had crossed a line, her eyes flashing fire as she leaned closer still, until he could feel the tips of her hair brushing against his arm. From a distance, it would appear that they were nothing more than lovers, leaning close together when the space separating them became too much to bear. But to the two of them, it was yet another show of the enforced restraint that Ben had been stuck beneath ever since they met, his teeth grinding together while his hand flexed against her grip.

"You going to let go of me?"

"Once I'm sure you know the stakes of this particular arrangement," His companion hissed, tightening her grip upon his wrist just a bit more, while her features twisted into a half-smile in response to his barely masked gasp of pain, "She's a pretty girl, Ben. I don't know why you're so hesitant—"

"She has to take the bait, first."

"She will."

"How the hell are you so sure?" Ben demanded, exhaling in a rush as the woman seated across from him released her hold on his wrist, and he was able to jerk it back towards his chest before she could reach for it again. Truthfully, he half-expected more retaliation for his remark, but what he got instead was a faint smile, and a look in his companion's eye that suggested she knew more than she was letting on.

Given everything she had already done, he supposed that look wasn't that far out of the norm…

"I'm so sure because you are going to make it happen," She instructed, closing the lid to her laptop, and reaching down to the bag leaning against her chair so that she could slip the device inside while simultaneously swinging her long legs around so that her feet were placed evenly on the floor.

"If she doesn't come to us on her own, I have every reason to believe you can change her mind with the same southern charm you tried using on me…"

If the woman knew anything at all, it was that Ben, born and bred in South Carolina, was more than capable of wrapping a girl around his finger, no matter how cautious she might be at the start.

…

Having aided Reese in depositing the body in the trunk of one of the many police cruisers parked in the garage, Piper found herself driving idly around the city, awaiting the text that would tell her when and where to meet him after he talked to the detective in question himself. In truth, she was still in somewhat of a dubious mood after the entire affair, though a part of her was not all that inclined to dwell on that fact, no matter how troubling it might have been. She knew, on some level, that what they had done was nothing compared to what either one of them had allowed to happen prior to joining Harold's employ, just as she knew that Reese's elusiveness as to his own past was every bit as justified as her own when under the weight of his scrutiny. But regardless of that knowledge, Piper was still not entirely capable of corralling her thoughts into something a bit less daunting, a sharp sigh escaping as she rounded the corner onto the same block she had been traversing for what felt like hours, and used her hand that was not at the steering wheel to reach for the dial to the radio in a search for distraction.

Of course, she should have known as soon as she did so that it was a mistake, the song that wafted through the speakers causing a strange twisting sensation in her gut, and consequently forcing her to jab at the dial once again to turn the thing off. In seconds, flat, it was a year ago, and she was prepared to never set foot in her hometown again if it meant staying with the one person that seemed to make the pain from hearing of her father's death not quite so unbearable. And she knew that she needed to stop thinking of the past, especially not knowing when Reese would decide it was time to meet.

If she knew anything at all, it was that he would read her distress on her face in no time at all, and she was not about to let him in on the particular mistake that was Ben Stamford no matter how persuasive he thought he could be.

Determined to prevent even the remotest possibility of an inquiry along those lines, Piper pulled to the side of the road after ensuring doing so would not cut anyone off, the car giving off a small lurch of protest at being so quickly thrown into park, though she hardly noticed it in light of her current state. Fingers dragging through her hair, while her breathing came in shallow gasps, the burning at the corners of her eyes gave evidence of the tears that would soon spill over if she did not control her wayward emotions in time. And although she knew such a thing was far from prudent, given the circumstances, Piper found that she could not help but reach across the passenger seat to the glove compartment so that she might tug it open and allow her fingertips to graze against the cool metal of the small object stashed away inside for a moment before pulling it out and letting it rest against the skin of her palm.

In spite of its minimal weight, the ring seemed to burn a hole against Piper's skin, her teeth coming out to worry at her lower lip as she regarded the thing for a moment, as though staring at it long enough might just make it disappear. Not for the first time, she regretted her decision to let someone in when she needed it most, as it had served, in part, to lead her into far more dire circumstances than she might ever have anticipated at the time. In truth, she was hardly certain she could safely remain where she was, even with the new identity her uncle had created for her as soon as she agreed to help him. But with nowhere else to go, and absolutely no desire to be on her own again, Piper was forced to the conclusion that the best course of action, at least for now, was to go along with whatever it was that Harold had planned, knowing that if she needed to make a quick exit, he might just be the best resource she could have in her arsenal.

She did not want to bring trouble to his door, but if leaving to protect him was her only option, she hardly doubted he would refuse to help her in the task, no matter his own personal reasons for keeping her nearby.

In time with such a realization, Piper found herself jumping in surprise at the sudden chirp of her phone where it rested on the passenger seat beside her, the fingers of her right hand curling around the ring she had pulled out of the glove compartment for one moment more, before she was stowing it back in its impromptu resting place, and reaching for her cell in the same motion. A single glance at the screen showed her the message from Reese she had been expecting—an address, and time where he wished to meet. And it was not long before Piper was tossing the phone back onto the passenger seat, after tapping out a hurried reply, her gaze drifting to the rearview mirror to ensure her recent turmoil was not still apparent upon her features before she was throwing the car in drive, and pulling back out onto the street once again.

She could only hope that she could keep her composure for the rest of the time she was with him, as she was not entirely sure she wanted to face the alternative, whether or not she was capable of holding her ground…

…


	10. Secret Keeper

Still aching from another night of fitful sleep and the occasional spasm of pain from his neck and upper back, Harold Finch stood beside the park bench that rested a few feet away from the water's edge, the soft call of a few seagulls that flew overhead only just registering in his mind as he remained deep in thought. Since the successful closure of the first 'case', for lack of a better term, he found himself significantly more at ease over the prospect of endeavoring to work the numbers the Machine had given him for a second time, though even the certainty of that notion did little to relax his mind in the long run. Given past history, he supposed it made sense for him to feel at least a little apprehension, and had it been only Reese that he had finagled into their current arrangement, perhaps he might have simply left it at that, and forced the sensation aside as best he could for the greater good. But the involvement of a young woman that had always held a peculiarly special place in his heart ever since she was just a little girl had somehow made things far more complicated than he had initially intended.

Of course he could never truly regret her presence, or her involvement in what they were doing, no matter how he suspected a small part of him would always hold tightly to the belief that she would be far safer—happier, even—had she ignored the message the Machine had sent her and stayed resolutely away. But despite the fact that he could not fathom exactly how the message had been delivered, in the first place, Harold would have been a liar to pretend it was not a far more welcoming sight than he truly deserved to have Piper in his life once again, the danger posed by her return to the city notwithstanding.

If the Machine had alerted him to her presence in the first place, perhaps it would not be so foolish to trust that it would warn him if she were threatened, as well.

Somewhat assured by that thought, at least for the moment, Harold allowed his attention to stray to the elusive prospect of the man who called himself John Reese, instead, a slight furrow marring his brow as he glanced down at the bench beside him, and finally hobbled over to take a seat in spite of his protesting spine. He knew enough of the man, of course, to know that he was practically perfect for the job he intended him to do, the skills made known through careful research over time only likely to serve them well when it came to keeping innocent people out of harm's way. There was still some hesitation, of course, especially as far as the requirement for an as yet unclear frequency of interactions between the man who had seemed so troubled when they first met, and the young woman that he had always considered as more of a blood relation than simply the offspring of a very close friend was concerned. That Reese was dangerous was no secret, and in fact that very reality had been a part of the reason why Harold had believed the man would be well-suited for the task at hand. But it also served as a source of rather significant wariness both in his own interactions with the man, and the prospect of Piper's as well—

It was not so much that Harold feared harm to his own person at the ex-operative's hands, but that something should happen to his best friend's daughter as a result of her proximity to someone that could be thought of as an enigma, at best, and a volatile a loose cannon, at worst, was a reality that he did not want to consider too carefully for fear that he would abandon the idea as a whole if he did.

He had waited too long to even consider that avenue, now, the memory of how powerless he had felt each and every time someone had suffered because of his inability to prevent it on his own steeling his resolve as nothing else could. He would never go back to that era of uselessness—to the ever-present self-loathing and the bitterness that, had he been given the chance to go back in time to alter his reactions to things that had perhaps been a bit too hasty, he might have changed from the get-go. From here on out, Harold knew that he would do whatever rested within his power to prevent any further bloodshed when there was even the slightest chance for him to stop it. What remained was to discern if his two would-be compatriots would join him in that endeavor, after what amounted to their first experience in such things, or if he would once again find himself at square one, looking for someone worthy enough for the task at hand.

As if the direction of his thoughts had prompted their arrival, Harold found himself suddenly aware of the sound of tires crunching against gravel, his posture shifting so that the upper half of his body had craned around to take in this new arrival as best he could. The car had already come to a halt, the engine cutting off into silence while first Reese, and then Piper herself opened the driver and passenger side doors, and stepped into the brisk wind that had picked up almost in time with their arrival. Even from a distance, he could tell Reese was watching Piper, blue eyes taking in the ease with which she unfolded herself from the car, before stepping away and shutting the door behind her as though determined to take something more definitive from the simple movements that she was unwilling to give him, in the confines of the vehicle itself. For her part, the young woman seemed either unaware of this keen observation, or untroubled by it, one hand lifting to shield her eyes from the sudden brilliance of the sunlight as it peeked out from behind a passing cloud. And although it was clearly her intent to make it seem as though she was simply engaged in the act of meeting a friend in an otherwise uninhabited piece of the city, Harold could clearly see that the slight tightness at the corners of her eyes and mouth very obviously belied the outer calm that she sought to exude.

Whether something had transpired between her and Reese, or she was merely having second thoughts about her place in all of this, Harold made a mental note to keep careful watch on her for the duration of their encounter, if for no other reason than to offer her an out if she found herself desiring to take it.

Though he would be the first to admit her presence was in part what made his determination stronger when it came to what it was they were doing, Harold knew without a doubt that he could never force Piper to stay, if better instinct all but demanded that she leave…

"Good to see you both made it through the night," He declared, watching as Piper's hand dropped back to her side as she approached with Reese in tow, one thin brow quirking just a bit in response to his remark in the same motion, "I trust everything went smoothly?"

"In a manner of speaking," Reese replied, stifling amusement at the almost predictable light scoff Piper had given as soon as she heard the words, though he saw from the corner of his eye that one corner of her mouth had lifted just a bit, before she responded in kind.

"As smoothly as it could."

"And your discussion with Detective Carter? Were you able to evade her suspicions?"

"For now," Piper confirmed, noticing that Reese's attention appeared to have snapped towards her once again, and consequently finding herself determined to avoid acting as though she was aware of it at all, "Though not enough to persuade her not to leave behind a card with her name and number if I had second thoughts."

"You might find it prudent to keep it," Harold advised, realizing that the short nod Piper gave him was likely a result of her own desire to do the same, even before he had uttered a word, "A detective on our side would certainly make things easier, in the long run."

"You mean, if she decides to suddenly stop being so curious about John—"

"That would be beneficial, yes."

"I'm not entirely certain how to go about doing that," Piper admitted, finally risking a glance at the man in question, though the look he gave her in return offered absolutely nothing in the way of clarity as to what his own thoughts were on the matter at hand, "And something tells me if we continue doing what you have in mind, that may only get harder."

"Perhaps there might be a way around that particular issue."

"Oh?"

"If you manage to befriend Detective Carter, Miss Beauchamp, perhaps you can at least remove any suspicion she may have as it pertains to your own allegiances. Your shared background in law enforcement may help in that endeavor."

Surprised, to say the least, at the suggestion, Piper could do no more than manage a simple nod in response to her uncle's words, her gaze once again slipping to Reese to determine how he felt about the matter, instead of sparing the time to consider her own reaction in more detail. Of course, his expression was nearly unreadable, as it most always was, the prospect of doing or saying something drastic just to see if she could finally provoke a reaction almost too tantalizing to resist, until she realized that doing so might just make the man more determined than ever to remain aloof. And so, rather than allowing her tenuous emotions to force her into something rash that would have absolutely no benefit for any of them, Piper opted instead for remaining silent, her shoulders relaxing just a bit as she realized that Harold had used her lack of reply to formulate one of his own.

"You both have a choice to make," He began, regarding them both carefully for a moment, and finding himself more than a little relieved that neither one appeared at all reluctant to hear him out, regardless of their own feelings on the matter he was about to propose, "If we continue to do this, sooner or later, all three of us may wind up dead. Actually dead, this time."

"But your Machine gave out another number," Reese supplied, something in the curiously detached nature of his tone sparking Piper's curiosity, though she did what she could to shove it to the side as she registered Harold's almost immediate reply in the affirmative.

"They never stop coming, Mister Reese. That's one of the things you both will learn, should you decide to stay on."

"And if we don't?" Piper inquired, knowing full-well that she would never be able to turn away from this opportunity, such as it was, even if her uncle had not leveled a brief glance her way that almost seemed hurt, before it was cautiously shuttered away and his features resumed their cautious observational status, instead, "What happens then?"

"In that case, I am fully prepared to give either one, or both of you, enough money to build a life for yourselves wherever you see fit. Neither of you are under any obligation to stay."

For a moment, Harold was required to wait as he realized with some surprise that both Piper, and Reese, had both seemed almost instinctively, to turn towards one another as though gauging each other's reactions and possible answers before making one of their own. Naturally, he could appreciate that, to a degree, particularly as he knew that if they both stayed on, they would be spending far more time in one another's company than in his own. It was not much of a surprise that there was some hesitation, there, as Harold was well aware that Reese was a man with secrets, just as he suspected Piper had her own to keep, as well. But before he might become too caught up in his own perception of their rather unique situation, the billionaire found all doubts to be quickly erased in the wake of the fact that neither of his companions had made a move to depart.

The sight of Reese simply remaining in place, with a muscle idly jumping along his jawline, while Piper had donned what might have actually been a half-genuine smile did Harold far more good than he might have believed, particularly as there was still another beat or two of silence before one of them finally made a move to declare their intentions outright.

"Well you won't get rid of me that easily," Piper quipped, almost immediately aware of the slight relaxation in her uncle's shoulders, though she masked her discovery of that very fact as best she could, like he was some sort of injured bird that would flee at the slightest provocation, "I'm staying."

In contrast with Piper's slightly overzealous declaration, all Harold seemed to be able to coax out of Reese was an affirmative nod, that errant muscle still twitching in his jaw as though he was torn between adding something to the discussion, or remaining silent, instead. For her part, Piper had turned to regard the man as well, her brow furrowing just a bit in response to his reticence, though she did not say a word to try and provoke a response, herself.

Something of a marvel, Harold supposed, as he had always known her to be one to refuse to hesitate when it came to attempting to draw someone into a conversation whether they wanted to be a part of it or not.

Regardless of that realization, and the minor curiosity it sparked as it pertained to what on earth might have exacted such a change in a young woman that was once so open and forthright, Harold did what he could to avert his concerns in favor of the larger matter at hand, the knowledge that he would not be forced to start at square one for a third time providing him with far more relief than he felt he deserved. Just because both of his companions had decided to stay did not mean that he would feel any less responsible, should something happen to either of them while working for him—but no matter the flutter of apprehension that threatened to overwhelm him at such a thought, Harold was still incapable of fully suppressing the eagerness he felt to get back to work as soon as they could.

For the first time in what felt like ages, he would not be forced to remain helpless while innocent people were subjected to violence that, but for his inaction, might have been stopped, and to him, that was a step in the right direction.

…

(Reno, Nevada 2009)

Sequestered in the relative safety of her hotel room, Piper, now to be known as Delilah Parker, paced the floor time and time again, her teeth worrying at her thumbnail as she continued to cast half-baleful glances at the card splayed upon the bedspread, as though it alone was responsible for her current situation. She had gone over and over her brief interaction with the mystery man, as though doing so would somehow illuminate the precise reason why it had filled her with such unyielding apprehension. It was true, he had aided her, though he had been under no obligation to do so. But even in the face of that seemingly good deed, there was something that still seemed lacking in the encounter as a whole, niggling at her mind as though determined to grab her attention, no matter how elusive it became once she actually gave it some thought.

If Piper had been a more paranoid sort, she might have known for certain that it all seemed just a touch too convenient to be real.

Be that as it may, she was not blind to the potential benefit implicit in the offer laid out on the card, especially when countered with the prospect of finding gainful employment on her own. No matter how long she ended up staying in this particular locale, she knew that she would need to garner some manner of income to supplement the funds she had taken with her. And in spite of how careful she knew her father must have been to ensure her new name would pass muster, she was still reluctant to trust it in its entirety, knowing that if even one fraction of the identity raised suspicion, she would not only fail at establishing a foothold—she might just flag her presence and her actions to whoever it was that he had tried to protect her from in the first place.

With such a realization firmly in place in her mind, Piper still found herself reluctant to simply dive head-first into the unknown, hazel eyes once again zeroing in on the tiny little card as she stopped her pacing and headed towards the bed, instead. Stooping to reach for it so that she could read the untidy scrawl upon its surface for what was likely the hundredth time, her jaw unwittingly clenched tight, while she turned so that she could perch on the edge of the mattress while her free hand combed through her hair. She had never felt so adrift—so lost as she did in this moment, her heart yearning for home and the familiarity of her family so fiercely that it was almost akin to a searing pain at the center of her chest. But inasmuch as she may have wished to do anything within her power to simply pack up and return home, Piper knew that would be impossible.

Her father would never have sent her away if the threat—whatever it was—had not been real, and she loved him too much to risk his own safety to assuage her own struggling feelings over being thrust out on her own so quickly it made her head spin.

Glancing down at the card in her hand once again in tandem with such a thought, Piper found herself frowning as the temptation to simply test the waters of whatever this was rose to the forefront of her mind. Something seemed to indicate caution would be wise, as though an instinct she could not quite put her finger on was all but determined to see her simply shred the card and go about things the way any individual that was not supposed to be on the run would. But in spite of that silent urging, an almost foolishly curious side of her almost desired to do the precise opposite of whatever logic dictated was a good idea, a sigh escaping as she tossed the card beside her on the bedspread, and leaned forward to hold her head in both hands.

God, but all this back and forth about what to do going forward was likely to give her a headache…

A groan escaped in response to the thought, whether or not she had any sort of ability to stop it, the heels of her hands coming to rub at her eyes as though by doing so, it would enable her to garner some sort of mental clarity, when before there had just been indecision. Of course, it failed, though she had never really expected it to be any different. And, not for the first time, Piper found herself utterly uncertain which of her inklings as it pertained to what to do about her current situation she could trust, her teeth chewing idly at her lower lip for a moment before she was hauling herself from the bed, and grabbing for her room key and purse so that she could head downstairs to the hotel bar.

If nothing else, she was poignantly aware of the fact that she was not about to get a good night's sleep with her thoughts whirring about as they were, and alcohol had always proven itself to be a reliable method for calming them down.

…

With the door of her father's loft slipping closed with an audible slam, Piper tossed her purse and keys haphazardly upon a nearby table, her heeled boots making harsh clicks against the flooring as she moved towards the kitchen, and slung the door to the refrigerator open to peer at the contents inside in next to no time at all. She was fuming, if truth be told, though she had done her best to avoid letting that fact show when Harold had instructed her to wait at home for more news as it pertained to how they were to proceed. Reese, by contrast, had been spirited away in the same town car that her uncle had used to get to their meeting place, as though the two of them were privy to some secret that she was apparently unworthy of knowing. And in spite of the countless times that Piper had tried to convince herself that it was nothing personal—that it was not a slight against her, in any respect—she still could not help but feel upset anyway, a small huff of exasperation escaping as she came to the determination that there was nothing she particularly felt like eating or drinking at the current moment, and shut the refrigerator door once again with a sharp snap.

It hurt, to be left behind again, for that was the only way she could picture the situation and have it make any sense at all. She had been left out when her uncle had initially broached the subject of their tentative alliance, and aside from serving as Wheeler's impromptu 'date', had primarily been on the sidelines, unaware of the majority of what Reese was doing throughout the entire operation surrounding Diane Hansen. She had been sent away again, to meet with Detective Carter, while Reese and Harold discussed who knew what in the park. And now? Now, despite her best efforts to avoid it, she was back in the place she would at least temporarily call home, her mood sour, to say the least as she paced over to one of the countless boxes she still had yet to unpack and sort through, and removed the lid with perhaps a bit more force than was truly necessary.

Placing it on the table beside her, Piper set to the task of attempting to sift through some of the contents, regardless her mind never straying far from any of a number of possible routes she might take to rectify her situation, if she wanted to do so at all. A part of her was hesitant, knowing that if she pushed her uncle for more than he was willing to give, it might all blow up in her face. But a still greater part of her was all but determined to find out exactly what it was he was keeping from her and why, the fact that he had always been a private person hardly deterring her when her own foolish pride stood in the way.

It was remarkably selfish of her, she knew that. To be so guarded with her own secrets when Harold had asked her about her time prior to her return home, and yet to expect him to be forthcoming in spite of it? It was hypocritical, to say the least. And yet, here she was, haphazardly dragging her dad's old things out of the box in front of her, so preoccupied with her own perceived rejection that she almost missed it—the framed photograph that was so faded she was all but certain it had been left in a place where sunshine was plentiful, though the smiles of the two figures it depicted were as familiar as though they stood before her now.

Her father was standing in front of a tree that was half-out of the frame, though one of the branches had dipped so low that some of its leaves brushed against his shoulder. His right arm was slung over a shorter man's shoulder—a man that she recognized even in spite of the faded nature of the photograph as her uncle, also grinning broadly, as though they had not a care in the world. Scrawled beneath their images, in a slanting cursive, was handwriting she did not recognize—To new beginnings! A. C—and, cramped beneath the picture, whose corner was bent slightly just prior to reaching the edge of the frame, otherwise she would not have seen it at all, a folded piece of beige paper peeking out from beneath it as though it had been hastily stowed away at a moment's notice.

Curious, Piper flipped the frame over and used a thumbnail to pick at one of the small rotating clips that held the backing in place, her brow furrowing just a bit, though she hardly realized it at the time. In next to no time at all, she had freed the backing from the frame itself, and had gently lifted it away as though terrified that if she did so with less care, the photograph, and the paper as well, would disintegrate into dust. And although some small part of her felt as though she were trespassing on her father's memories, somehow, despite the fact that he was no longer around to protest, Piper extracted the small fold of paper from the back of the photograph and unfurled it in the palm of her hand, her eyes grazing over the words written in his familiar hand a few times before she realized what it was she was looking at.

An address?

E. 37 & Madison.

Frowning as she placed the paper beside her, Piper set to the task of replacing the backing on the frame while simultaneously considering where best to place the photograph so that she could see it on a daily basis. It was true that she had no idea what the inscription on the bottom meant, any more than she really understood what the significance of the address might be, and why her father had felt the need to store it inside a frame, rather than keeping it on his person, or simply getting rid of it, instead. But regardless of her confusion, and the countless questions it inspired no matter whether she wanted it to or not, Piper would have been a fool to pretend she was not prepared to follow up on any and all tidbits of information she might find while going through her father's things, her hand almost automatically reaching for her phone as she prepared to type the address she had just located into the first search engine application she could find.

If it were even possible to be even more at a loss than she had been when she initially located the tiny piece of paper stashed inside the picture frame, Piper was, her brow furrowing as she scrolled through the few sparse photographs that popped up relating to the address in question. It appeared to belong to a library, of sorts, albeit one that had been abandoned years ago after a rash of bankruptcies that affected numerous other buildings of its kind. And although she had not a clue what it meant, or why her father would have had any interest in it at all, Piper was prepared to venture to the location herself right then and there—

Or, she would have been, had her phone not chosen that precise moment to emit a startling buzz that had her jumping before she regained her composure enough to read the text scrolling across the screen.

Free to meet at diner? Something we need to discuss.

Although the childish side of her wanted to hold off on replying, at least until she had more of a chance to follow up on the potential meaning of what she had just discovered, Piper forced herself to shove that impulse to the side, her fingers already jotting a hasty affirmative response before she was once again standing and heading to where she had left her purse and keys…

No matter how frustrated she might be at his secrecy and seeming preference for granting Reese a more direct look at his real agenda, Piper knew that she would never in a million years be able to refuse her uncle anything, and that troubled her a bit more than she cared to admit.

…


	11. Further Instruction

(New York, 2009)

The man sat alone in the abandoned library, one hand dragging through tawny hair, while the other reached for the half-empty glass set upon a coaster nearby. He had been nursing it for what felt like hours, though, truthfully, he had only been shut away for a little less than one. But no matter how often he told himself that all of his reasons for being here were the right ones, he could not entirely persuade himself to believe it, the knowledge that in doing so he was betraying the trust of a man who did not give away such a thing easily causing the guilt that had already started to eat away at him to only grow, no matter what he did to stop it.

Of course, he hoped that Harold would have agreed with him about maintaining a way to communicate with the thing they had built together, even after it had been shipped off to wherever the government officials thought it could be kept safe. He had hoped the two of them could have found some way to maintain the so-called 'irrelevant' list, and do some good in the world even after the majority of their work was in other hands, entirely. But Harold, it seemed, had other ideas. In fact, he seemed almost appalled that anyone would have wanted to continue to work with 'The Machine', as they called it, no matter the potential cost to their conscience by choosing to remain ignorant of those numbers that no one would ever try to save.

And that left Nathan to fend for himself, working each number as it came along, and hoping that he wouldn't get either himself, or another innocent person killed in the process.

It had gone well, at first. Remarkably well, even with his relative lack of proficiency when it came to the finer arts of protecting someone with more than just a generous donation, or technical prowess. The numbers had come, he had done whatever research he could before setting out to determine the threat against them in person. But just as he had become somewhat confident in his ability to keep this entire charade going on his own, the unthinkable had happened. Another number had come in, just as they always did, but this time, in contrast to the countless strangers he had helped from a distance, without them ever knowing of his presence at all, this particular number had belonged to someone he knew, perhaps better even than he knew himself.

Piper. Her photograph—the one taken her senior year of high school, no less—had stared back at him almost defiantly, the soft smile on her lips giving no illusion that she ever had anything to fear from simply being herself. In truth, she was perhaps a bit sheltered from the weight of the world, even with the reality of his separation from Olivia—something that was his own fault more than anyone else's as he had always sought to protect his youngest child from even the slightest of inconveniences as she grew. She was his little girl. She would always be his little girl, even when she was his age.

But now, her life was in danger, and the fact that he had absolutely no idea why terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Almost immediately, he had scoured every last facet of her life, albeit as subtly as he could, if for no other reason than to delay causing her alarm until he had no other choice. He sifted through her coworkers—her friends from college—every last bit of what he knew she did in her day to day life and came up empty each and every single time. And then it had hit him. If her friends and coworkers weren't the threat, and there were no outside forces looking to harm her, the threat had to be coming from someone far closer than all that.

It had come from her connection to him, and he had only realized that when it was nearly too late to do anything at all to save her.

He could still recall their lunch together as though it had happened yesterday, the two of them seated in their favorite booth, pouring over the menu though they both knew exactly what they intended to order already. He remembered being unable to stop stealing glances at his daughter when she wasn't looking, taking in the way she chewed at her lip while reading over the various options on the menu, or how she tucked a persistent strand of hair behind her ear each time it attempted to drift across her brow instead. And then he had seen it. The man seated a few tables away that seemed to suddenly be following Piper's every move, even when she stood and excused herself to use the restroom.

He had seen the man before, on one of the days Alicia Corwin had visited him at the office, lurking around in the background, as though his sole purpose was to serve as nothing more than a glorified piece of muscle. But instead of watching him, the man was fixated on his daughter instead—

It was then that Nathan Ingram realized the threat to his daughter had come, in a roundabout way, from her association with him.

From there, the choice was simple, although it pained him to do it, the exit strategy he had already cooked up for himself, should things go awry, serving as the perfect means for getting Piper out of town as safely as possible, and thus removing the threat against her person for good. Of course, she had not understood, and he was unable to fully explain in a way that she fully deserved, though he had done his best to convey the seriousness of the danger she was in, regardless. He would have been blind to miss how terrified she was. How she had almost immediately picked up on his won urgency, and internalized it, whether she could understand it or not. But she had done her best, even then, to simply absorb everything he was telling her, knowing somehow that her survival depended upon her following her instructions to the letter.

She had left even though she had very obviously been reluctant to do so, knowing that there was no certainty of when she would ever see any of her family again.

Even now, Nathan marveled at her bravery. At how she had done what was needed, even in spite of a lack of understanding as to the exact reason why. She was so very much like Olivia in that way—adaptable, and willing to take what someone told her at face value, whether she understood it herself, or not. The only difference was, in the face of his secrecy over what he had been doing with Harold the past few years, Piper had chosen to simply trust that he would tell her what he had been up to in time. Olivia—

Olivia had taken his reluctance towards full disclosure as a personal slight time and time again until it finally tore them apart.

Whether his wife would have handled the events surrounding Piper's enforced departure from the only home she had ever known in the same way or not, however, was irrelevant, but explaining their daughter's sudden departure certainly had not earned him any favors in her book. He could not have told her exactly why Piper needed to leave, without risking placing her in danger as well. But of course Olivia had only seen his inability to give her a succinct reason as to why one of their children had to leave so suddenly as yet more proof that their separation had been a very good idea, her scorn for him only growing after realizing she might never see her only daughter again.

And now, here he was, sequestered in the abandoned library with nothing. No one. No family, and no best friend to help him adjust to the gaping hole that Piper had left behind after her departure. And although he knew that he would make the same choice to protect her, again and again, if necessary, the bitterness at being so alone was never far from his mind, another sigh escaping as he downed the remainder of the liquid in the glass situated beside him on the desk, before standing and moving towards one of the nearby bookshelves for a refill.

He knew it was wrong. That imbibing in so much alcohol when there was still work to be done was a foolish decision if he had ever seen one. But after watching so many of his relationships fall apart, whether through his own doing, or forces outside of his control, Nathan truly felt he was entitled to a little bit of inebriation, if for no other reason than to grant himself a reprieve from the guilt that threatened to overwhelm him every minute of every day since his daughter's departure.

She had disappeared without a trace, just as he had told her to, but that didn't make her absence any less painful.

A part of him wondered if she would contact him at some point, particularly as he knew she did not fare any better with being lonely than he did, himself. But a still greater part of him knew that she never would, after having been told in no uncertain terms what it might mean if she made contact without knowing for an absolute certainty that it was safe to do so. And so, Nathan simply settled himself to the task of coming to terms with the fact that it may be a period of years before he spoke to his daughter again, let alone saw her in the flesh…

He knew that he would do anything to keep her safe, no matter if that meant he might never see her again.

…

Piper sat in the very same booth at the diner that she and Harold had shared the last time, her fingernails picking idly at the plastic covering on the menu she had been given for want of anything else to do. She was still on edge, though she felt she had done her very best to try and tamp down on her emotions on the ride over. It was not Harold's fault that she was so out of sorts—not really, though she was not so naïve as to pretend that his secrecy was not at least a part of the reason behind she felt so dubious about her purpose in this entire charade. But, despite her current state of mind, Piper was determined to prevent allowing herself to risk the small bit of trust Harold had placed in her over a small case of uncertain feelings, her eyes casting around the room once again until she recognize the now familiar gait of none other than her uncle himself as he approached her booth, and slid into the seat across from her in seconds, flat.

"Piper—I'm glad you made it," He began, a faint smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as he placed both hands flat upon the table and glanced down at the menu placed before him for a moment before going on, "I trust you aren't too tired for a little mid-afternoon brunch?"

"Not at all."

"I thought perhaps we might discuss a few sundry details as well," Harold continued, startling Piper with the sudden mention of exactly what had been troubling her all along, though she did what she could to avoid allowing her surprise to make itself known in her expression, regardless, "That is, if you are still interested in the endeavor we have been discussing at present."

"Of course I am."

"You're certain?"

"I couldn't be any more certain if I tried," Piper assured, forcing herself to meet Harold's gaze in spite of the fact that she could not help but come to the conclusion that he was endeavoring to read her every thought as it played across her face from the intensity of his gaze, "But there are some—some things I think I need to know, if I'm going to go forward."

"Such as?"

"Such as everything you're apparently willing to tell John Reese."

"You are privy to some things he has no idea of, as well, Piper," Harold cautioned, clearly interpreting the tension that was so heavy in Piper's position before him as a reason to believe she was not entirely thrilled that she had been sent off once again while he dealt with his other associate in private, "I find it prudent to split knowledge, so to speak, so that if one of you is ever compromised—"

"We can never tell the whole story."

"It has absolutely nothing to do with the amount of trust I have for you, you know. I am simply endeavoring to keep you safe."

"If I wanted safe, I never would have come back to the city, Uncle Harold. You know that."

"But you did come back."

"I did," Piper confirmed, shifting so that her legs were crossed beneath the table, while the fingers of both hands threaded together on top of the menu that rested before her on the tabletop, "I'm not going to run away from this, and I'm not about to expose you even if I do end up in less than favorable circumstances. So, you may as well tell me what it is that you're trying to keep to yourself."

"You know, I don't think you're entirely aware of how much you remind me of your mother," Harold stated, holding out a hand to stall Piper's impending protest, and attempting to do what he could to find a suitable means of persuading the young woman to believe that his remark was one of simple fact, and not a means of distracting her from the truth, "She was a remarkably determined woman, as well."

"What does that have to do with—"

"With what you want to know? Everything. It has absolutely everything to do with my reluctance to tell you every last detail of what it is I am asking of you at the outset, without first determining if you are ready to accept those details without turning away."

"What makes you think I'm not ready?" Piper inquired, one brow lifting in silent curiosity as she watched her uncle accept the glass of tea handed him by the waitress that had approached their table, as though she knew his order without him having to state it out loud, "I didn't think I'd done anything to warrant doubt so quickly."

"You haven't done anything. Would you believe me if I said I was simply concerned that this endeavor would negatively impact your well-being?"

"Ambling around on my own seems to carry equal risk, Uncle Harold. Seems to me I might just be safer here."

"I imagine your father thought the same, as well," Harold supplied, aware of the minute stiffening in Piper's expression, though she clearly made an effort at restraining how his words must have stunned her in favor of listening as he attempted to elaborate further, "What he—what we were doing is—is something I have very great reason to believe led to his death."

"And you're afraid it will have the same end-result for me."

"Very much so. I can't—I won't risk your safety, Piper. Not even if it means we lose the opportunity to save innocent people through my attempts at keeping you safe."

"What if I told you I'm not about to let you throw this opportunity away?" Piper demanded, leaning forward until both elbows rested upon the table they shared, hazel eyes holding Harold's blue ones without so much as a flinch, in spite of the fact that she was nothing less than reeling from the thought of a potential reason behind her father's death, "What if I told you you're the only family I've got left, and I won't just walk away?"

"You have a mother. A brother. Friends."

"And where are they now? Not here."

"Piper—"

"They're not here," The young woman repeated, ignoring the brief spasm of something akin to pain that fled through her chest at the thought of so casually negating her remaining blood relations, no matter the fact she had not seen or spoken to either of them in two years, "You are. That makes all the difference in the world to me."

"I am not so sure you will feel the same way in the future."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

Unable to do anything except for managing a nod in response to Piper's assertion, Harold satisfied himself with simply observing her features, the familiar cast of almost defiant resolve proving reassuring in spite of his own lingering doubts over the wisdom of including her in this at all. It had taken a while for Nathan to finally come to him regarding his decision to send his daughter away, and the precise reason why such a thing had been rendered necessary in the first place. But that decision had been what finally allowed them to move past their disagreement over whether or not to maintain access to the so-called irrelevant list—something for which Harold would be forever grateful, as he would never have been able to survive the guilt of losing Nathan if his own anger and sense of betrayal had caused their last interaction to be one of disagreement and heated words.

Still, it would have been a lie to pretend that he was not overwhelmingly unsure of his decision to involve Piper in his chosen path, even now, when she had done nothing but prove herself willing to take part in it no matter the cost to her own personal well-being. She was so much like Nathan, in that way—determined to throw herself into anything that seemed even remotely like a good deed, whether she was prepared to accept the consequences of that decision, or not. He could remember a young girl who had come running to him, in tears when her mother wouldn't allow her to keep the baby robin she had nurtured after finding it with a broken wing—the young teen who had stood toe to toe with her father until he finally relented, granting her permission to tag along with her brother when he went to a party thrown by some older friends.

She had never been one to take much time for considering caution, and somehow, given the expression that had settled upon her features in the wake of his introspective silence, Harold highly doubted that he would be able to deter Piper from remaining with him, no matter how many times he tried.

"You are very much like him, you know," He began, aware of the nearly perplexed cast to Piper's features, though it was soon shifting to one of instinctive understanding as she realized exactly who he was referencing even though he never once said the name aloud, "Stubborn—impulsive, with a heart of gold."

"Not so good with computers though," Piper joked, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she took in her uncle's soft laugh, in spite of the fact that it was clear even this small mention of her father was painful for him, every bit as much as it was for her, "He failed to pass that particular skill-set on to me."

"Well, we can't all excel at everything."

"No. No, we can't."

"So, I imagine you have some questions," Harold mused, pausing for just long enough to manage a small sip of his tea before it cooled entirely, "Would you allow me to ask you one of my own, as well?"

"I suppose that's—only fair," Piper replied, brow furrowing for a moment as she considered exactly what it was that her uncle may wish to know. In truth, she was still a bit more than reluctant to disclose exactly what she had been up to while away, at least not at the present. But just as she had been about to prepare herself for some manner of evasive answer, she found the effort to be unnecessary, the slightly mischievous twinkle that sparked for a moment in Harold's eyes causing her to stiffen just a bit until he finally broke the silence between them with the question he apparently deemed worthy.

"Now that we are no longer required to keep Miss Hanson safe, will you continue to see Mister Wheeler?"

"Really? Of all the questions you could have asked—"

"Call it a sort of protective curiosity," Harold explained, relief flooding through him at how Piper seemed to automatically relax after hearing his inquiry, her own shoulders shaking as evidence of her amusement while she simultaneously shook her head in obvious surprise, "It may provoke more suspicion if things were to end too abruptly, you know."

"So, I'm dating a lawyer—befriending a detective—anything else?" Piper quipped, tempering the potential criticism that could be gleaned from her remark with a faint smile, and finding herself rather pleased to note that Harold had offered her one more small chuckle in response before he was reaching inside his suit pocket, and withdrawing a small square of paper so that he could place it on the table between them, face-up.

A photograph.

"We have another number, as I said earlier this morning. Two of them, in fact. And while Mister Reese is otherwise occupied with the number I have given him, I had hoped you would be able to help me with the threat against her."

Reaching for the photograph so that she could give it a closer inspection, Piper took in the woman's slightly harried appearance—the weariness that was so apparent in the deep half-circles resting beneath wide blue eyes. Already she seemed like someone that was running from something—or someone. And in spite of herself, Piper found that she could not ignore the faintest beginnings of something not that far off from protective instinct that all but demanded she do something to help this woman, her expression suddenly signifying her resolve as she placed the picture back upon the surface of the table and forced her eyes to meet Harold's once again.

"What do we know so far?" She inquired, her eyes once again straying to the woman in the photograph as she did her best to ignore the faint twinge of familiarity that the woman's expression brought forth. To say anything other than that she knew that expression inside and out would have been a lie, as she had seen it on her own face often enough whenever she caught a glance at herself in the mirror. That sort of terror, hidden as carefully as was possible, though not enough to make it invisible, had been something she was intimately aware of, particularly during the latter half of her time away from home. And although she was at least somewhat apprehensive that her own involvement with this woman, whatever that happened to be, might risk exposing more of her own troubles than she was fully comfortable with, Piper was not about to let onto that particular reality with Harold watching her as closely as he seemed to be, one of his brows lifting in silent curiosity for just a moment before he took the liberty of answering her question as best he could.

"She's new to town, living in a small apartment just on the outskirts of the city, where she commutes to and from her job every day as a waitress in a local bar."

"Maybe a patron is making some unwanted advances? She rejected him, and he didn't take it well?"

"Maybe," Harold confirmed, managing a nod, though the slight disbelief in his tone did not go unnoticed by his companion, no matter how he might have wished that it would, "Or perhaps the threat goes deeper than all that."

"How so?"

"She starts a shift this evening, at seven o'clock. I think if you find yourself a patron of that bar yourself, you may just find out."

"And the questions I may have?" Piper asked, her expression guarded even as she hoped that her uncle would not take her decision to press her case as it pertained to gaining more insight into the full scope of his apparent operation as a means to be even more reluctant to share, "What about those, Uncle Harold?"

"I will do my best to answer them as truthfully as I can, Piper. But you should know you may not always approve of the answers I have to give you."

"I'll take my chances. I trust you, Uncle Harold. Whether or not you can bring yourself to do the same for me, I do. I need you to believe that, even if you don't believe anything else."

Though Harold did not reply to her statement in one way or the other, Piper thought she could see the faintest hints of something that was not all that different from relief take over his features in response, his entire stance relaxing as though she had just relieved him of some great burden that he had not yet put into words. And in spite of the fact that she had chafed beneath the weight of his stubborn evasiveness, Piper knew that he had never intended such behavior as any sort of personal slight against her.

His obvious reaction to her assurance that she would never think ill of him no matter what he confessed gave far more proof to his intentions than mere words ever could.

"I suppose this is my queue to get cleaned up and head to that bar," The young woman began, a faint smile once again toying at the edges of her mouth as she moved to scoot out of the booth, only to find her progress stalled when Harold reached out a hand to place atop her own.

"Perhaps you could manage to stay? I find that I am rather more inclined to have company for this meal than usual."

Managing a nod, and sliding back to the center of the booth, Piper allowed her attention to stray to the menu for the first time since her arrival, her eyes drifting over the various descriptions of meal options with significantly greater interest than they had before. In truth, she was glad of the opportunity to simply enjoy a meal with her companion, as she knew full well if left to her own devices, she would likely drive herself mad going over and over the small slip of paper she had found in her father's old loft, trying to decipher what it meant. She had not given up her desire to get to the bottom of it, of course—not in the slightest. But there was something to be said for simply putting that innate curiosity aside for the moment in favor of allowing herself to enjoy the companionship that had just been offered for whatever time she was permitted…

Piper knew she had spent far too much time on her own to turn away from the familiarity of the man seated across from her without a second thought, even if the decision to stay was perhaps one of the more reckless choices she had made since her return to the city itself.

…...


	12. Crash Course

A few hours later found Piper seated in a booth that was rather mercifully situated in the rear corner of the restaurant where her newest charge worked, feigning interest in the book she had brought along at the last minute for some sort of cover to make her solitude seem a bit less conspicuous. Of course, she had chosen the very spot she was in for the specific reason that it allowed her to glance around almost the entirety of her current location with relative ease. And in spite of the fact that she had failed in obtaining such a table that was not in the section her would-be charge had been assigned for the evening, Piper had to admit that her brief interactions with the woman, such as they were, had only confirmed her suspicion that she had held ever since first seeing her photograph.

She was running from something, or someone, and if the way she kept casting furtive glances at the door every so often were any indication, it seemed as though whatever it was that frightened her just might be closer than she liked.

Frowning a bit in response to the thought, Piper placed the book face down upon the table to mark her spot, and reached for her soda instead, her fingertips fiddling with the straw for just a moment before she took a sip. Although she had been seated at her table for a little over an hour, she had been nursing the same glass the entire time, knowing all too well that if she were to indulge in as many drinks as her waitress appeared to want to bring her, she would be staked out in the restroom, instead of where she could get a clear view of her charge at almost all times. Even with her limited experience in waiting someone out during the time her father had sent her away from the city, she knew that indulging in too many refreshments could often do more harm than good.

Before such a train of thought could prove too distracting, however, Piper reached for her cell where it was placed beside her temporarily abandoned book, her thumb tapping over the screen until she pulled up the abbreviated message Harold had sent regarding the woman she was supposed to protect. Her name was Veronica Denkova,, thirty-two, and a Fine Arts major who had dropped out of college a year and a half ago, to take up a job as a waitress, instead. Her reasoning was unclear, though Piper had already surmised that it might have had something to do with the death of both her parents around the same time her formal education had ended. But what was more intriguing, at least at the moment, was the complete absence of any other family member in the picture for this woman to turn to, if things went south.

It was almost exactly like her own situation, Piper mused, save for the fact that she did still have some living family left to her, should she ever need them. In order for her departure at her father's behest to be truly successful, she had been forced to cut them out of her life, as well, which was almost the same as never having them to begin with. And perhaps that was exactly why she found herself feeling a strange sense of kinship with the seemingly kind-hearted waitress who was venturing back towards her table at this very moment, her lips drawing up into a smile before she broke into Piper's wayward thoughts with a gentle inquiry.

"Need anything else, hon?"

"Perhaps a small chef salad?" Piper replied, knowing full well that she would never eat it, but endeavoring to avoid arousing suspicion by entering a bar, of all places, and not indulging in food or alcohol at all, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, that is."

"Not at all! I'll bring that right out," Veronica assured, sending another smile Piper's way before turning, and heading towards the kitchen. Once again, she paused just before entering the swinging doors to cast a glance back at the door that led out to the street. This time, however, not long after Veronica had disappeared through the swinging doors, someone did pass through the front door, his appearance causing Piper to quirk a brow as she watched him head toward the hostess stand, and speak in a low tone to the young woman standing nearby.

As unobtrusively as she could, Piper reached for her phone, shifting in her seat just a bit so that she could level its camera at the man who was now being led toward a table just a few feet away. She did not have to wait long for Veronica to exit the kitchen, salad in hand. And although she could not have explained how she knew that he was the one that the waitress was waiting for, Piper found that she was not at all surprised when Veronica stiffened for just a moment as soon as her eyes came to rest upon the newest arrival, only to shake herself minutely and head towards Piper, instead.

"It comes with the house dressing, but if you wanted something different, I can go grab that—" She offered, the sudden ease with which she seemed capable of diverting herself back to the task at hand startling Piper, though she did what she could to avoid allowing that surprise to make itself plain upon her features.

"House dressing is just fine."

"Okay. You let me know if you need anything else, alright?"

"Will do," Piper promised, managing a faint grin of her own, and watching as Veronica strode away, back through the double doors that led to the kitchen. Once she was certain that the waitress would not return to the main dining hall almost immediately, she allowed her attention to stray towards the man who had startled her charge so effectively, one hand lifting the fork as though she was, in fact, preparing to eat, while the other opened the camera on her phone to snap a picture and send it off to Harold with the tag 'Any idea who this guy is?'

Now, all there was left to do was wait to see if he would come up with a positive identification.

Truthfully, she ought to have known a reply would be forthcoming, the short buzz her phone gave as a new text message came in prompting a short laugh before she was glancing down at the screen, and selecting the message to read in full.

'Alexei Norokov. Ties to Russian Mafia. Backup?'

"Wonderful," Piper said under her breath, chewing at her lower lip for a moment, before typing back her reply, and hoping that she would not end up regretting her choice as time went on.

'Not now. Doesn't seem to be doing anything other than rattling the poor girl.'

'Keep me posted. Can send Reese if needed.'

Stowing the phone back in her purse after reading the last message, Piper did as best she could to ignore the slight stab of aggravation that flared up at the suggestion of her needing help of any kind, despite the fact that she knew full well the offer was not meant as any sort of slight. Perhaps it was because of the stint with the body in the back of her car, or maybe the simple fact that she just did not know him that well. But something about the idea of not being able to handle this herself was chafing, regardless of the foolishness that was likely implied by her pride, and that fact alone had her exhaling in a rush as she turned her attention back to the potential threat in question, and made a show of picking at her salad in the same motion.

The man appeared to have already snagged a drink from a passing waitress, and had downed about half of it in one gulp, all the while allowing his eyes to roam around the room as though he owned it. Something in the way his gaze lingered on every single female in the building had Piper's skin crawling, as though she would need to go home and take a shower just for being in the same room. As she realized his attention had momentarily fixated itself upon her, she found herself unable to resist the brazen urge to send a coquettish smile his way, before returning her attention to the task of making it seem like she was invested in her salad.

If the look she had noticed on his face in response were any indication, he might have decided to approach her himself, had Veronica not chosen that very moment to venture back through the kitchen doors, and into the restaurant itself…

Oops.

Determined to avoid doing anything else that might be considered reckless, particularly since she did not want to do anything on her end that would render the 'backup' that Harold had mentioned a necessary thing, Piper settled back in the booth she occupied, occasionally casting covert glances at Veronica as she moved about the rest of her tables, and rather pointedly ignored the one occupied by Alexei. For his part, he seemed entirely content simply remaining where he was, nursing his drink, and following the poor girl with his eyes through every single move she made. And although Veronica appeared to be doing the best she could to ignore that reality, it did eventually catch up with her, the sudden clatter of a tray full of dishes falling to the floor causing Piper's gaze to snap up just in time to notice the waitress stooping to clean the mess made just beside Alexei's table.

"Need a little help?" The man inquired, his voice pitched low, though not soft enough for Piper to avoid hearing what he said entirely. Almost immediately, Veronica flinched away from the man, withdrawing her hand from one of the broken shards of glass at her feet as Alexei's hand brushed against her own while he stooped to help. But before she could fully withdraw, his hand had somehow managed to snake its way around her wrist, his entire body shifting in such a way that he was a mere hairsbreadth from Veronica, herself, and Piper was forced to shift towards the edge of the booth, her entire body tensing as she waited for sufficient means to take action.

"You should take it where you can get it, kiska. It will not be yours to accept, forever."

"I can take care of this myself," Veronica hissed, swatting the man's hand away, and gathering the remnants of the glass shards onto her tray before rising to stand just as Alexei did the same, "You should leave."

"We both know I cannot. Not without you. Did you really think we would not find you?"

"I think you can go to hell."

Not allowing Alexei any chance to reply, Veronica turned on a heel and stalked off towards the kitchen once again, her expression unreadable as she passed Piper's table, and disappeared from view. Alexei himself simply returned to his seat, his expression never once indicating that he had just engaged in a tense encounter mere moments before. And although Piper had relaxed just a bit from her stance at the edge of the booth, with one hand slipped inside her purse to wrap her fingers around the gun concealed inside, she still remained vigilant, the tension in her muscles remaining significant enough to send a dull ache throughout her body as the sound of the swinging kitchen doors banging against the wooden wall reached her ears, and diverted her attention towards Veronica once again.

Clearly, she had been given permission to leave, though according to the research Harold had done, her shift was not due to be over for a few more hours. And, as she headed towards the door using the path through the maze of booths and tables that would take her the farthest from Alexei's table, Piper moved to follow as unobtrusively as she could, her gaze drifting towards her phone as she flipped through the screens until Harold's number popped into view.

"Miss Beauchamp—how are things going with Miss Denkova?" He inquired, having picked up after the first ring had barely sounded, while the chosen surname he used indicated he must not be alone—something she took into account in her ensuing reply.

"She's leaving work early after an encounter with an unwanted arrival. I'm following after her, now."

"And the arrival?"

"Still seated," Piper informed, her brow furrowing a bit as she glanced back through the window of the restaurant as she passed, and noted that Alexei was once again back in his seat, waving over another waitress for a refill of his drink, "Maybe he—isn't the threat?"

"That would seem highly unlikely, given the apparent nature of the encounter you witnessed."

"Is there anyone suspicious outside?"

Startled a bit by the unexpected sound of Reese's voice chipping in, Piper just barely avoided the instinctive urge to stop in her tracks, her steps quickening, instead, so that she could follow after Veronica as the waitress jogged across a nearby intersection. Of course, she ought to have suspected such a thing, particularly given Harold's cool formality when answering her call. But even that realization was not entirely enough to temper the curiosity that made itself apparent in her tone, her eyes remaining on Veronica's retreating frame as she did her best to stay close, without attracting suspicion.

"Not that I can see. Done with your assignment already, then?"

"Taking a coffee break," John quipped, his reply prompting a soft snort of amusement before Piper could fully stop it, "Any idea where she's headed, now?"

"Home, most likely. It's—it's where I would go, if what happened to her, happened to me."

"Has this ever happened to you?"

"Off the point, Reese," Piper quipped, gratitude that she was merely speaking with her would-be coworkers over the phone, rather than in person, where either one of them might be able to see the uncertainty that likely marred her features for just a moment before she rearranged her expression back to its determined focus of before, "Harold, any ideas as to her address?"

"Coming momentarily, Miss Beauchamp. You know, if Mister Norokov isn't following her, himself, it seems possible he may have entrusted the task to someone else. Someone that may have the requisite skill for remaining hidden, even to a more trained eye."

"Another Russian?"

"It would surprise me if it wasn't."

"Fun."

"My offer of sending Reese in as backup still stands," Harold offered her then, the immediate effect of his words causing the young woman to purse her lips for a moment, while she simultaneously caught sight of Veronica up ahead, flagging down a cab.

"I don't think that's necessary right now. But I will need that address."

"Sending it to your phone, now. Is something wrong?"

"No. I just doubt that I'll be able to successfully keep up with a taxi, even with inner city traffic bogging things down."

The beep her phone gave in response to Harold's incoming text served as all she required to disconnect the call, and swipe over to the message, instead, her free hand lifting to summon a cab almost as soon as she had done so. Of course, her supposition may have been wrong—Veronica could be headed to a friend's, or another bar to drown her own sorrows, rather than journeying home for a chance to clear her mind. But, regardless of whether or not the niggling suspicion that her charge's choice would be remarkably similar to what her own might have been when placed in a similar situation, Piper knew she could not simply stand on the sidewalk doing nothing, a faint smile gracing her lips as one of the yellow cabs pulled over to acknowledge her request, and she scrambled inside as quickly as she could.

She just hoped she was right, or Veronica might find herself headed into a trap without anyone around to help…

…

It did not take long for Piper's cab to reach its destination, and she was able to disembark not that long after having handed a folded group of bills to the driver with a smile and soft word of thanks. She had been fortunate enough to spot Veronica exiting her own cab just moments before, from the passenger side window she had been leaning against for the duration of the ride. And so, with the relief that she had not been incorrect in her suspicion of where the young woman was headed firmly in her mind, Piper headed towards a bench situated near the entrance of Veronica's apartment building, her legs crossing at the knees as she endeavored to simply blend in as an individual waiting on a friend to gain entry into the complex itself.

The sudden sound of a slamming car door rather effectively caused Piper to snap her gaze towards the direction from which it had come, her entire body freezing as she recognized the familiar glint of sunlight on the metal of a gun in the hand of the man exiting the car. Two more had removed themselves from the backseat, though they, at least, were not openly sporting any weapons. And, before she had the time to fully realize what she was doing, she was standing from the bench and hurrying to catch up to another woman who had just approached the front door, sidling in behind her, and turning to yank the door closed before the men could catch up. They seemed to have stopped midway from their vehicle to the door, conversing over something that she could not hear.

She knew she had to use their momentary pause to find Veronica, and somehow persuade her to leave before they could catch up.

Knowing that the elevator in plain sight in the lobby might very well be too slow, Piper moved towards the neighboring stairwell, instead, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the third floor, and turned left towards apartment 3B, as indicated on the placard outside the stairwell door. Her mind was working at a mile a minute, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation for her presence, as well as her knowledge of a potential threat against Veronica's person, to begin with. But before she had fully decided on what, exactly, her motivation might be, she found she was outside the waitress' door, her hand already lifting to knock while her teeth bit into her lower lip in a last-ditch attempt to reign in her rising nerves.

The door to Veronica's apartment opened within seconds, it seemed, the perplexed expression that the young woman wore only seeming to grow as she took in Piper's expression, and managed a hesitant step back as though instinct had already told her that something was amiss. It was clear that she did not consider her unexpected visitor to be a threat, though even that supposition was not enough to allow her to open the door all the way. And although Piper was still attempting to cobble together some plausible reason for what might otherwise simply make her seem insane, she forced herself to adopt a thin smile, her eyes meeting Veronica's as she risked a singular step towards the partially opened doorway of the apartment.

"Hi—I—do you have a moment?"

"A moment for what?" Veronica quipped, one thinly arched brow quirking in skeptical inquiry, while both arms simultaneously folded across her chest, "I'm a bit busy—"

"Unfortunately, I think that's only going to get worse."

"What? Who the hell are you?"

"That's not really relevant. There's no easy way to explain this, but we need to leave," Piper began, cringing internally as her words tumbled over one another, and only served to make Veronica take another step back while her hand clenched tightly upon the door she kept propped open with one hand, "Please. Please, I need you to try and trust me."

"You're with him, aren't you?"

"I'm not with anyone."

"And why should I believe that?"

Before she had a chance to reply, the sound of elevator doors dinging open reached Piper's ears, her gaze snapping towards the sound, only to find that the men she had noted outside the apartment were exiting one by one. Cursing under her breath, she turned back to Veronica, while her hand dove into her purse for her gun. And before she could second-guess herself, Piper found she was reaching out with her free hand to drag the still stunned Veronica out into the hallway, her body shifting so that the waitress was situated firmly behind her while simultaneously freeing her weapon from the purse, and training it on the man in the lead.

"Is there a second entrance?" She ground out, reaching behind her to push Veronica along, and steeling herself as the men caught sight of her and almost immediately went on the offensive, "I need to know. Now."

"There—there is."

"Take me there," Piper ordered, giving Veronica another fervent shove to get her around the nearby corner, and moving to take cover there, herself as weapons were drawn by the men headed their way, and a shot echoed in the hall, whizzing by her head at alarming speed, and embedding itself in the wall opposite where she stood. Her heart was hammering in her ears, forcing her to roll her shoulders just a bit in hopes of retraining her focus…

She had a choice. Stay put for long enough to neutralize at least one of the threats against them, or run, now, and hope their odds may improve.

She needed to choose soon…

With jaw clenched, Piper tightened her hold upon the gun in her hands, a steadying exhalation leaving her lungs before she spun around the corner, and fired one shot, and then another in rapid succession. She was not oblivious to the soft scream that Veronica gave in response, though she ignored that for now in favor of ducking back behind the corner wall as return fire came her way—but not before she saw with mingled satisfaction and dismay that one of her shots had downed the lead assailant after embedding itself point blank in his skull.

"Go. Now," She directed, nodding her head in the direction of the end of the hall she and Veronica currently occupied, and following along as the waitress took off towards the door Piper had only just noticed at a dead run. Following along, albeit a bit more slowly, she allowed her upper body to twist so that she could turn and aim her weapon once again just as the remaining two assailants rounded the corner themselves. Instinct took over, then, allowing her to squeeze her finger down on the trigger once—twice—three more times, in spite of the fact that her heart felt as though it had come to lodge firmly in her throat. Another shot struck home, the yell that one of the men made as he went down clutching his thigh giving her the will she required to risk turning and heading towards where Veronica stood framed in the door, ducking just as she reached the doorway herself, and pushed through with just enough time to slam it closed after another bullet whizzed past.

"I—I take it that was why we needed to leave?" Veronica panted, turning and hurrying down the steps as quickly as she could with Piper hot on her heels.

"You could say that," Piper confirmed, only just ducking out of sight in a turn of the stairwell as the upper door she and Veronica had just passed through was wrenched open with a grunt that echoed around the walls, "Keep going."

"But where—where do we go?" The waitress pressed, stumbling a bit as she nearly missed the bottom step, before righting herself and turning to take the final set of stairs that led to what Piper could only surmise was the ground floor.

"I know of a place. It isn't far. But that won't do any good if we can't lose these guys before they make it too far out of this building."

"My car is parked in the parking garage just outside the back exit. I just—I rarely use it since the streets are always so crowded."

"The key?" Piper asked, her lips thinning into a line as a sharp pain made itself known in her side, and she snapped the hand that was not still clutching her gun to press against it, only for the skin of her palm to come away wet.

"In my back pocket. I always keep it close, in case—"

"In case you need to make a quick get-away."

Managing a curt nod, Piper reached for Veronica's arm just as the young woman had stumbled to a stop, using the hold to tug her towards the exit while pounding footsteps on the stairwell signified their assailants were about to come into the self-same hallway they were in, in enough time to see them depart. Pushing Veronica along, the two of them finally reached the double doors at the end of the hall. And it was not long before they were in the parking garage itself, Veronica suddenly taking the lead as she headed towards a banged up old Ford Anglia that was not all that far away.

Now if they could just make it there without further incident, they may have a shot at getting to the apartment Piper had in mind alive…

…

Shouting a curse as he ran to the entrance of the parking garage while the vehicle containing his quarry raced out of sight with a resounding squeal of tires, the man dragged a hand through sweat-soaked hair, his free hand reaching for the phone in his back pocket as it emitted a shrill series of bell tones that indicated an incoming call. Withdrawing the device, the man brought it to his ear amidst the release of another short growl of aggravation—

A growl that the individual on the other end of the line seemed to have heard, his tone dangerously soft as he waited just a fraction of a second before he spoke.

"Is it done?"

"There were—complications," The man in the parking garage informed, running a hand through his hair once again as he registered the short pause on the other end of the line that was followed by an exasperated burst of a sigh, "Petrov is dead, and Marco took a bullet to the thigh—"

"The waitress did this?"

"No. She had—help."

"Help," The other man repeated, a scoff so apparent in his tone that it gave his counterpart every reason to believe he was scowling, despite the fact that he could not see his face first-hand, "Who?"

"We don't know. Some woman—brunette—security cameras probably picked up at least one decent image—"

"Then why aren't you looking at that footage?"

"I need to know what to do about the others."

"Leave them. Watch the footage," The man who was so clearly in charge instructed, his accent thickening just a bit as a direct result of his displeasure, though he kept his tone level enough as he delivered his final word.

"That bitch and her new 'friend' die tonight."

…


	13. Memories

(New York, September 2011)

"Where are we?" Veronica inquired, brow furrowed as she watched her newfound companion shut the driver's side door of the Anglia, while a wince passed over her features so quickly that it was almost as though it was never even there, "Who—who are you, really?"

"Just a concerned citizen," Piper replied, risking one final glance at the surrounding street to ensure no one appeared to be taking any unusual sort of interest in their arrival before taking the steps up to the door of the building she had driven them to as quickly as she could, given the stabbing pain in her side, "And we're at a—safehouse, of sorts."

"Why?"

"Why? The men firing shots at us wasn't a dead giveaway?"

"No, I mean—I mean why are you helping me? How did you know I would even need help in the first place?"

"It's—complicated," Piper said, opening the door of the building, and stepping aside to usher Veronica through before she followed suit and shut the door, locking it securely behind them, "Would you accept that as an answer, for now?"

"It doesn't really seem like I have much of a choice," Veronica acknowledged, glancing around the spacious interior of the den she had just entered, and allowing an impressed whistle to escape before she could find the means to stop it, "This is—this is nice."

"Thank you."

"You live here?"

"Not—exactly," Piper managed, suppressing the memory of Detective Carter's visit to this very building what felt like ages ago, and instead choosing to focus on the task of maneuvering about the room to ensure each of the windows was securely locked, and drawing the blinds not long thereafter, "It belongs to a friend."

"Well your friend's got good taste."

Managing a faint smile, Piper returned to Veronica's side, her eyes searching the other woman's for a moment in silence before deciding on her next course of action. It had been instinct that brought them here. Instinct, and perhaps a craving for the familiar in the midst of something that had turned to chaos far more quickly than Piper could have ever imagined. And although she was well-aware of the risk inherent in bringing a complete stranger to a location that could be very easily traced back to her if Veronica got too curious, Piper was also forced to admit that she really had possessed no other choice.

Somehow, she believed that between the Russians, and Veronica, herself, the woman she was attempting to protect was a far less significant threat.

"Feel free to use whatever you need, here," She instructed, turning to glance around the room once more, before lifting a hand to gesture toward the hall at its opposite end, "Shower's just through there, and spare towels are in the closet next to the bedroom. I don't have much in the kitchen—"

"How long are we going to stay here?"

"Truthfully? I'm not sure."

"Will they be able to find us?" Veronica pressed, her voice trembling as she fixed Piper with a stare that the other woman had to admit held her gaze without any trouble at all, "The—the Russians, I mean."

"I hope not," Piper admitted, aware that her response had likely done nothing to reassure her already nervous companion, and thus finding herself suddenly reaching for the other woman's hand so that she could give it a reassuring squeeze, "But I'm not going to leave you hanging. I need you to believe that."

For her part, Veronica did seem to take Piper at her word, if the slight nod and squaring of her shoulders was any indication, and in the wake of the other woman's apparent decision to take the proffered option of a shower, Piper found that she was able to breathe a small sigh of relief. Since the encounter earlier, she had been doing what she could to avoid allowing her newfound companion in on the reality of the wound she had sustained. But as the pain had continued to nag at her, it had become more and more difficult to do so effectively…

Something that made Veronica's disappearance down the hall a rather welcome reprieve, as it allowed Piper to head towards the kitchen the apartment housed so that she could reach for the cupboard she knew her mother used to keep spare wash cloths in, while her free hand dipped to the hem of her shirt.

Lifting the fabric with a small grimace as some of the blood that had soaked into her shirt stuck to the surrounding skin, Piper glanced down at the wound, her brow furrowed as she tried to discern the gravity of the situation she was now dealing with. It hurt like hell, of course, as she had known it would, no matter the severity. And so she did her best to set herself to the task of wetting the washcloth held in her hand, and cleansing the wound as best she could, a wince or two making its way across her features though mercifully she did not cry out as each touch caused a white-hot fire to snake its way through her nerve endings as a result.

Once she was certain the wound was relatively clean, Piper set to the task of rummaging through the cupboards in search of the first aid kit, her teeth worrying at her lower lip until she discovered it in the same cabinet her mother used to keep spare coffee mugs in, just as it had always been before. Unbidden, a faint smile crossed her lips at the memory of so many former scrapes and bruises causing her to come in search of the bandages and other sundry items years ago, where she would sit on one of the chairs near the kitchen table while her mother tended to whatever injury she had sustained. But before she could allow herself to get too lost in the memory, Piper forced her attention back to the present, choosing instead to focus upon the task of removing a pad of gauze from the kit and pressing it to the wound so that she could peel bits of tape from the roll her fingers grazed over next, and tear them off with her teeth to secure the gauze against her skin.

Tugging her shirt back down over the wound after she had determined that she would not be likely to bleed through the gauze in the immediate future, at the least, Piper set about the task of replacing the first aid kit in the cupboard and shutting the door, just as her phone emitted a faint ring to announce an incoming call. With a sigh, the young woman fished it out of her back pocket, wincing just a bit as the act tugged at the edges of her now dressed wound. And although she was more than a little reluctant to answer, given the name scrolling across the screen, and what it likely meant, she forced herself to take the call, regardless, a soft sigh escaping before she spoke.

"Harold—"

"Miss Beauchamp, are you alright?" The frantic voice inquired, the apparent concern provoking a faint smile to Piper's lips before she took to leaning back against the kitchen counter of her mother's former apartment, and folded her free arm around her midsection before she replied.

"Fine. We're both fine. Just ran into a little trouble with the—"

"I saw the footage. I think I might call that more than just a little trouble."

"Okay—a lot of trouble. But we're away from that, now," Piper assured, biting back a hiss as she dropped her free arm to her side, only to find that she had inadvertently brushed her hand against her injury in the process, "I think we managed to lose them, for the time being."

"And where are you, now?"

"My—an old family apartment."

"I see," Harold acknowledged, his tone indicating that he had every idea of exactly what she meant, though he did not admit to such a thing aloud, "And you're certain the two of you can be safe, there?"

"As certain as I can be."

"What will you do if someone finds you?"

"Keep Veronica safe," Piper replied, glancing towards the hall the young woman had previously disappeared in, and frowning a bit before going on, "I don't suppose you were able to find anything more about the men coming after her?"

"Not at the present. Although, Mister Reese is going over the—rather colorful scene you left behind in Miss Denkova's apartment complex. Perhaps he might find something illuminating in the process."

"You mean he might be able to get a photo of the—"

"The body of the man you shot before the police arrive and take them away?"

"Yes."

"He might," Harold confirmed, somehow seeming to sense exactly how much that particular revelation troubled Piper despite the fact that he could not see her face, "Miss—Piper—are you truly alright? I know taking a—a life can't be easy—"

"I'm fine, Uncle Harold," Piper assured, relaxing just a bit as a result of the simple reality of being able to address the man as she normally would, without fear of anyone overhearing and making more connections than either of them wished to have known, "I just—"

"You wish it had not come to that at all."

"If you plan to turn that into a reason why you shouldn't have involved me in this in the first place, please don't. That's not why I said what I did."

"Now who reads minds?" Harold quipped, a faint ghost of what might have been a laugh echoing across the line, and prompting a faint smile to Piper's lips in response before she replied.

"Don't tell anyone. I'd hate to become one of those crazy psychics people write to all the time with inane questions for the papers."

"I will try my best to keep silent. And Piper?"

"Yes?"

"Do try to be careful," Harold cautioned, the soft tapping that echoed in the background indicating that he was likely already starting the search for anything conclusive on the men that may or may not be coming after her charge, and consequently her, as well, "I'll get back to you when I find more information that proves relevant."

"Sounds good. And will do," Piper replied, disconnecting the call, and stowing her phone back in her jeans pocket while simultaneously moving back towards the den to sit gingerly upon the sofa. Some small part of her knew that she might be better suited to be keeping an eye on the windows, or listening for any attempt at someone buzzing themselves in from the main floor. But a still greater part was all but determined to obtain as close to an honest account of precisely why Veronica was being targeted from the woman herself, first, her arms folding across her chest as she settled in to wait for her companion to exit the shower and return to the den, herself.

Between whatever Harold managed to find, and her own information gathering, perhaps that would give them a better idea of what to do next…

…

(Reno, Nevada, 2009)

Ben Stamford suppressed a grin as he sat in the hotel bar, watching as the very same young woman he had inadvertently rescued earlier that day stepped inside and took a seat at a table nearby, one hand lifting to cover the evidence of his amusement while the other toyed with the straw in his drink. With just a glance, he could tell she was uncomfortable in her surroundings. That she had likely ventured to the bar for the sole purpose of finding some means of distraction from her troubles at the bottom of a bottle or two of good booze. And although he still had his reservations about whether or not she would, in fact, be useful, he forced himself to stand and saunter over to the table she had chosen, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulled out the chair opposite where she sat, and plopped down before she could say a word to the contrary.

"So—we meet again," He teased, noting how the young woman seemed to have frozen in place for a moment, before she recovered her composure to a degree, though whether that was because she recognized him, or simply because the waiter had wandered over with her drink, he could not tell, "And you look like you could use a distraction from life in general."

"Gee, thanks," Piper retorted, taking a sip of her martini that was likely larger than necessary, and placing the glass down on the table while the liquid burned its way down her throat, "Just what a girl always wants to hear."

"It was just a statement. You going to tell me it wasn't true?" Ben inquired, his lips curving into what Piper could only describe as a smirk as he leaned forward on both elbows, and took note of the almost immediate flushing of his companion's cheeks. She was uncomfortable. That much was obvious by the way in which she almost immediately reached for her drink once more, and downed another sizeable gulp. And, before she could find any way to come up with an excuse to leave him there, he pressed his advantage, reaching across the table and taking her hand in a gesture so sudden she jumped and very nearly sloshed her drink on her shirt, "You don't have to be so skittish, you know. I'm—a friend."

"A friend? I barely know you!"

"That could change."

"Yeah, but it won't," Piper said, tugging her hand away from Ben's, and shrinking in on herself in the hopes that her resistance might persuade him to go away, "You can't just hand a girl a card, and expect her to fall at your feet you know."

"Oh, can't I? It's worked every other time before."

Rather unexpectedly, Piper found herself emitting a startled laugh in response to the remark, her free hand coming to cover her mouth as she shook her head in a resigned sort of acceptance of his presence, on the whole. Of course, she did not fully trust him. Not really. But something about the prospect of not having to spend the remainder of the evening alone suddenly appealed to her far more than she ever thought it might, and that fact alone seemed enough to cause her to remain seated, her fingers toying with the stem of her martini glass as she eyed her newfound companion for a moment, before deciding to break the silence between them with a simple question.

"Are you always this self-assured? Or is that just the case when a woman is involved?"

"Oh no. It's a regular thing," Ben admitted, watching as the woman seated across from him quirked a brow, and managing a shrug that was equal parts dismissive, and a confirmation all rolled into one, "You get used to it after a while."

"Wow. I bet you say that to all the girls."

"No. Just the ones I intend to keep around."

"And I'm one of those, then?" Piper asked, rolling her eyes at her companion's answering grin, and pausing just long enough to down the rest of her drink, before doing her best to remove any hope he had of her actually turning into what he so clearly seemed to want her to be, "Sorry to disappoint—er—?"

"Ben."

"Right. Ben. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not that kind of girl."

"Every girl is that kind of girl with the right guy," Ben pressed, laughing again at the scoff that his remark earned him in response, and yet still choosing to persist in his given course, regardless, "What? You don't believe me?"

"God, no!"

"Why not?"

"You really have to ask?" Piper laughed, shaking her head again at the man's sheer tenacity, and yet still finding herself rather incapable of persuading herself to simply get up and leave him behind, regardless. It was as though some invisible force was keeping her rooted to the spot, all but desperate for his attention, in light of the fact that if she were to leave, she would be back on her own once more. And so, instead of bolting in the opposite direction, Piper stayed put, a small nod of thanks for the waiter who brought her a second martini serving as the only movement she made prior to speaking once again, "Wow. I guess you do."

"Would you be any less incredulous if I offered to foot your drink bill for the rest of the night?"

"Is that your way of trying to be obvious about getting me drunk, and lowering my inhibitions, Ben?"

"It is if it means you'll stick around. I hear they've got pretty good dance music planned for later on," Ben suggested, aware of the startled expression his companion wore, and chalking it up to another victory on his part even before she replied in confirmation of what he had already begun to suspect.

"I suppose I can mange another hour or two," Piper acknowledged, pushing down the lingering sense that she was behaving foolishly in favor of taking the first sip of her second martini, and regarding her companion with an arch expression before amending her previous statement with something she hoped would still allow her to remain aloof, "But only because I have nothing better to do."

"Fair enough, Miss Parker. Fair enough."

Had she known that she would still be in that bar after several more hours had passed, rather more than a little inebriated, and pressed as close as she could possibly get to Ben Stamford's significantly taller frame as they danced—had she known what that moment would lead her to in the future—perhaps Piper would have made a different choice…

Hindsight, they say, is always twenty-twenty.

…

(New York, September 2011)

After Veronica had emerged from the shower, and Piper had made the last minute decision to change her own clothes, as well, despite the fact that she had not initially been certain her mother would have left anything behind that was her size, the two women were sat upon the sofa in the den, mugs of coffee in hand, and the dull hum of whatever newscast was scrolling across the television screen in the background to complement their conversation. At first, it had been casual. Simple questions brought about by two individuals attempting to gain some equal footing when both of them had been thrown off kilter by recent events. But now that an hour or so had passed, Piper found that it might be prudent to redirect their conversation to the matter at hand, her lips pursing for just a moment as she fiddled with the mug held in her hands before she exhaled and forced herself to look at Veronica head-on.

"We need to talk about why those men came after you," She said, aware of the way the other woman seemed to shrink in on herself almost immediately after hearing the words, and yet choosing to press on, regardless, in hopes that she could persuade her companion towards being truthful, "I'm not here to judge you for anything, Veronica. But if I really am going to keep you safe, I need to know what I'm up against, here."

"What you're up against? This is—this is my problem, not yours," Veronica protested, chewing at her lip for a moment before rolling her shoulders in a botched effort to relieve the tension that had likely taken up residence between them.

"It became my problem when I killed a man for you. Please, I'm not—I don't want to push my nose into your business any more than I have to, but I need to know some things if I'm going to keep you safe."

Seeming to realize that the woman who had stepped in on her behalf had a point, whether or not she was entirely willing to admit to such a thing out loud, Veronica managed a small nod, leaning over to place her mug upon the coffee table so that she could wrap her arms around her midsection before she spoke.

"When I first moved to the city, I was on my own. My parents had just died, and whatever family they had left, they weren't on speaking terms with, so it was—it was just me," Veronica began, fixing her eyes on the cushion that rested between herself, and her companion, in hopes that it would give her the courage to continue being forthcoming, "I—I was desperate for someone—anyone—to connect to, and before I could blink I was involved with Alexei. That's—"

"The man who was at the restaurant earlier today."

"Wow. You really have done your research."

"If I hadn't, neither of us might be sitting here, right now."

"Fair point. But yes. The man who was at the restaurant earlier today. We met at a bar, and I—well, it sounds stupid, hearing it now, but I fell for him. Hard," Veronica confessed, a slight flush adorning her cheeks as she shifted a bit on the sofa, and wet her lips with her tongue before going on, "I kick myself every day, now, given what they—what he made me do."

"And what was that?" Piper inquired, doing her best to hide the jolt of recognition she felt as soon as she heard Veronica's words, and hoping that her expression would not betray exactly how familiar the situation was to what she, herself, had experienced just two years ago, "What did he make you do?"

"They were running drugs. Trading them for women to work in their night clubs all over the city. I was—he thought I would be the perfect means of calming them down when they came from—wherever they came from, and before they started to work, and I—"

"You couldn't take it anymore, so you ran."

"Right."

"And now they're after you, worried you might squeal to the wrong person," Piper surmised, watching as Veronica nodded once in confirmation, and exhaling, herself, as the full implications of the situations he had found herself in hit home, "You did the right thing, Veronica."

"How can you be so sure?" The young woman questioned, doubt coloring her tone as she squirmed in her seat once again, and began to pick at a stray thread on her jeans for want of anything better to do with her hands, "How can you be so sure when now I've brought a complete stranger into my own problems, and placed their life at risk, as well?"

"I don't want you to worry about me. That's not what this is about. This is about you."

"Yeah, but I dragged you into it—"

"You didn't drag me into anything I hadn't already considered before I decided to help you," Piper assured, reaching forward on a whim, and taking one of Veronica's hands in her own to give it what she hoped would be a reassuring squeeze, "I did this because I wanted to. No more, no less."

"But if you get hurt—if anyone gets hurt because of me," Veronica began, her throat seeming to close for the moment of its own accord as panic clawed its way through her veins, and allowed Piper the wherewithal to interrupt her before she could go on.

"I am not going to let that happen. I need you to trust me. I need you to trust that I am going to do whatever I can to get you out of this, okay?"

Only able to manage a small nod in response, Veronica returned the squeeze Piper had given her hand with one of her own, some sense of relief giving her leave to relax just a bit, and lean against the sofa cushions while Piper gently extracted her hand, and reached for the young woman's mug with a slight grin of her own. In next to no time at all, she was standing, and heading back to the kitchen, while a simple shake of the head indicated that Veronica was to stay put while she refilled her mug. And, after that was done, she returned to the den and handed the young woman the renewed supply of caffeine, her expression cautiously neutral so as to avoid provoking alarm.

"If you think you'll be alright here, I'm going to go take a look around outside for a moment. See if there's anything I missed when we came in," She informed, noting the immediate concern that flooded her companion's features, and doing her best to make herself sound reassuring so that she could see there was truly nothing amiss, at least not yet.

"I promise, I'll be right back, okay? But I need to make sure we're good here, at least for now."

"Okay," Veronica allowed, clutching her coffee mug in both hands, and watching carefully as Piper headed towards the door, keys in hand, "Be—be safe."

"Of course," Piper assured, closing and locking the door securely behind her, and heading off down the hall towards the elevators while her every muscle remained tensed, prepared to spring into action if needs be. In truth, she was more than a little unsure of her own capabilities when it came to fending off the Russians, should more of them come looking for Veronica, and find them in their current locale. But regardless of her own misgivings, she was all but determined to do whatever she could to keep her newfound companion safe, her posture tensing just a bit as she waited for the elevator to arrive on her floor, and held her keys tightly in her right hand.

She was not quite ready to share it with Veronica, yet, but Piper had been exactly where the young woman was now, herself, and she knew full well the precise lengths someone could go to in order to find someone they believed had done them wrong…

And she would be damned if she let what happened to her happen to another woman, so long as she still had breath left in her lungs.

…


End file.
